


Misery Loves Glamour

by Maybethereshope



Series: The Glamourverse [1]
Category: The Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare
Genre: (at least from the book...), (we only had 3 books out when I wrote this...), Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Celebrity, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Artist Clary Fray, Athlete Alec lightwood, Blow Jobs, Break Up, Gratuitous Smut, Grief/Mourning, I'll add more tags if/when they become relevant, Internalized Homophobia, Jace is casually homophobic at first but I swear he gets better, M/M, Major Character Injury, Meet-Cute, Model Isabelle Lightwood, Movie Star Jace, Musician Simon Lewis, Outing, Pre-Story Death Not a Main Character, Rimming, Singer Magnus Bane, Sugar Baby Camille Belcourt, Tabloid Television, Unprotected Sex (later chapters), blatant disregard for MLS season schedule, gratuitous theft of music for the sake of 'Magnus wrote it shhh", real people mentioned
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-25
Updated: 2021-01-20
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:07:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 36,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23843482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maybethereshope/pseuds/Maybethereshope
Summary: (Original Summary from FFN): Life in the limelight isn't always so sweet, and secrets are more closely guarded than ever. But if you look hard enough, in all the wrong places, you might find the love of your life, and a way to break free.
Relationships: Clary Fray/Jace Wayland, Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood, Simon Lewis/Isabelle Lightwood
Series: The Glamourverse [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1718125
Comments: 117
Kudos: 170





	1. Cherry Bomb

**Author's Note:**

> Hi all. So. It's finally back. For all of you who sent me messages and kind words when I was at my lowest, telling me how much you enjoyed this story and how it helped you through tough times and made you laugh and cry, this is a thank you. I'm sorry it took this long for me to be comfortable posting this again, and I'm still a little wary, but life is short. This is for you all <3
> 
> For those of you who are just discovering this story, a disclaimer. This story was written in 2010. It will probably be painfully obvious from some of the music selections and also lack of current technology! It was also written and posted serially, as in, some chapters were written months or years apart. For this reason, it's got some pacing issues. However, I wanted to preserve what those who loved it before remembered, so I left those things for the most part unchanged. As it says in the tags, we only had 3 TMI books out, with book 1 of TID on the way. No movie, no TV show. So characterizations from those things will not be factored in. Just...as. warning I guess? Anyway, if you choose to move forward and read this story, you have my utmost thanks. I'm glad new people can experience this relic from Malec fandom years past!
> 
> Song titles/artists within the text are either what's playing in the background, a song Magnus wrote/sings, or what inspired the scene. I left them in because in the beginning they were integral to the story, and it felt weird to leave them out. So feel free to look them up as you read :)

##  **Black and Gold by Sam Sparro**

The boy moved with the sort of grace that was so sought after in the throes of passion. That kind of fluid sexuality that could not be taught, only ingrained from birth. He was the kind of boy that had probably broken hearts since he was in preschool.

He was wearing the usual uniform of the cold hearted snakes that slithered through places like this searching for their next little white mouse. His toned chest was visible under the open collar of his charcoal Armani button-down. Over that was an open black waistcoat that flapped and flowed with his movements. His dark hair was carefully tousled, having that irritatingly sexy, just-fucked look, like he was channeling Robert Pattinson on a good day. The best part, though, was under those loose-fitting, slouching dark True Religion jeans, above the spotlessly white old school shell-top Adidas. He had the ass of a Greek god. It was perfectly visible every time he ground his narrow hips into the voluptuous brunette he was dancing with.

“Could you be any more obvious? Jesus, you’re like a vulture. Beady-eyed and constantly circling,” Camille observed, sounding bored as she sipped her Electric Lemonade in the corner booth.

“It’s only obvious to you. And you never know, the poor girl could drop dead any second. Then I could swoop in and lick up the jizz she undoubtedly leaves behind,” Magnus retorted, also taking a sip of his identical blue cocktail. Camille snorted, a small smile creeping across her face. Magnus returned it. “Plus,” he continued, “I’m allowed to check out anyone I want that walks in here. That’s one of the perks of _owning_ the establishment,” he said with a haughty air and took another measured sip.

The two friends currently occupied the buttery leather corner booth of Cherry Bomb, New York’s hottest new lounge. Magnus loathed the name “club”, because it usually conjured up images of grinding teenagers and a shitty techno soundtrack in a huge warehouse somewhere on the Jersey shore. His place was rather small, with more couch space than dance floor, but still had the appeal of giving the opportunity to find a hottie or two to rub on to the beat of something intoxicating.

This was his escape. He loved to sink into the ocean of bodies, brushing up against the elite and obscure alike. It was his addiction: loud music, glitz, and sweat.

His partner in crime, seated at his side, had helped him design the place. She acknowledged that he had a tendency to overdo the glam, and she was there to help pull it back a little. Between the two of them, the place had turned into a soothing yet alive whirlwind of leather and velvet, glitter and low lighting. They had mutually agreed on the purple theme, their favorite color. The black lacquer dance floor in the middle, however, was all Magnus. Just beneath the glossy clear acrylic surface, there were millions of flecks of glitter in every color of the rainbow. When the lights hit it, it had a way of mesmerizing the eye to the point of dizziness. It wasn’t even tacky, which was what Camille had feared. Even she agreed that it was a genius idea. It added just the right amount of color to the otherwise dark and mysterious atmosphere.

When Magnus glanced back up from his drink, he’d lost the boy he’d been staring at for the past five or ten minutes. No matter; the place was packed full of a hundred more just like him, and they were all just as beautiful, if not as graceful. Magnus had a weak spot for that sort of tightly contained elegance that was so rare in this town of hard hitters and conventional beauty. He liked the odd ones, the ones who were beautiful but had something about them that was a little off. It was that little imperfection that he searched for, because it usually meant realism underneath. New York City on the whole was so chock full of saline and botox, it was hard to pick out what was real anymore, without being able to find the imperfections. Case in point: his best friend next to him.

Camille was one of those girls that made most men weep with desire. She was nearly as tall as him (and he was six foot three, so that was saying something), and had flowing platinum blonde hair (from a bottle, of course), double D’s filling her Agent Provocateur lingerie (the bra was a gift from Sam, a stock broker from the Upper East Side, and the boobs were from a married producer she met in the Hamptons), and a nose sculpted to perfection so many times, Michelangelo would be envious. She was one of those women that strived for perfection and would pay top dollar for it, but usually had it given to her by one of her many suitors.

Magnus, on the other hand, was what Camille usually called infuriating. Everything most people strived for, he was born with. He had a fine boned face, with a delicate, aristocratic nose, high cheekbones and perfectly shaped eyes. The irises were the most unusual shade of green-yellow, a contrast to Camille’s deep emerald. They were enticing, usually the first thing people noticed about him. He was very tall and slender, having just a bit of muscle tone rolling over his arms and chest, and he was a very even and smooth tan from head to toe. His hair was like sheets of glossy black silk when he left it down, which was rare. Tonight he was in his element, and it was styled into a high pompadour with a single streak of blue running right through the front strands. 

He always wore the best clothes; fashion was his forte. The designers had started to notice him now that he was a successful nightclub owner, and they delivered the best straight to his door, so he could show it off when his establishment was packed. The top designers understood that he would accept nothing less than the best, even if he had to pay for it on his own. He was getting noticed by the media more and more, and was becoming a new fashion icon of Manhattan. He and Camille had even started to get invited to parties and premieres. He loved the attention, and thought it was well-deserved, considering the amount of time he put into his appearance every single day.

This particular evening was marked by a deep blue Burberry dress shirt, open at the collar and adorned with a loosely tied turquoise tie. His trademark black leather pants adorned his toned ass, and the look was completed by some brand new electric blue combat boots, a gift from Richie Rich.

On top of the glamorous wardrobe, his makeup was always immaculate. Tonight he was sporting dark blue eyeshadow laid over with a bit of silver glitter. A thick streak of black liquid liner and lots of mascara completed the look. His lips were his trademark nude with clear gloss. His lips were so full and luscious that Camille had convinced him any color added would overpower their beauty.

The two remained in their booth, surveying the glamorous crowd of actors, models, and socialites with a detached interest. Most of them just fed off the attention of the lesser mortals, waiting to throw themselves in front of something glitzy and rich. At other times it was rather annoying, but in an atmosphere like this, the specials thrived on it. Magnus prided himself on the fact that New York’s young elite, the Rihannas and Paris Hiltons and Isabelle Lightwoods of the world, flocked to his establishment to wine and dine themselves in the company of each other.

* * *

##  **Stripper by SoHo Dolls**

The idiot next to Isabelle said something she guessed was supposed to be funny, so she snickered in her best impression of impressed. It annoyed her to no end when someone laughed at their own jokes, and even more when said jokes weren’t even remotely amusing in the first place. She sighed inwardly. New York hadn’t changed much while she’d been in Milan. In fact, it looked like it had gotten worse. The men weren’t any more considerate, or funny, or cute. The Italians were certainly lightyears ahead of this lot when it came to finding a man who _really_ knew how to treat a woman.

Isabelle hadn’t really been thinking when she’d told the cab driver where to go. She’d just wanted to get out of the house where her mother was spouting orders to the help and her father was holed up in his office. When she was away, she was Isabelle Lightwood, 21 year old rising star in the modeling world, on the cusp of greatness with no end to her ascent in sight. But when she came home to her parents’ house, she was Izzy, daddy’s little girl with the silver spoon sticking out of her mouth, frequently second fodder to her brothers simply because she didn’t have the kind of conventional fame that they did. It’s not that she didn’t appreciate her privileged upbringing; she just wished her parents would give her some credit, seeing as she had built her name for herself in the modeling world after dropping out of NYU. But no, they still thought they were owed everything for her success in the fashion world. 

She’d arrived home around 6:30 p.m., stayed about 10 minutes, then bolted. Her siblings weren’t at home, so she decided to give herself a little time to see and be seen. She knew New York would welcome its native sweetheart home with open arms.

What she didn’t expect was to hit her usual hot spot, a large club where the usual young socialites liked to sit and be appreciated, and find it almost completely devoid of her usual crowd. She’d only been gone four months, and already this place was deserted and the crowd had moved to a different watering hole. She was bored out of her skull.

She extricated herself from the booth, leaving jokester boy mid-sentence, and not apologizing for it. She swept through the teeming bodies and out the door, her waist length black hair lifting and swaying in the night air. She hailed a cab and climbed in.

“What’s new around here? I’ve been away for a while, and it seems the crowd has moved on without me,” she said absently.

“Oh I know. It’s good to have you back across the pond, Miss Lightwood,” the cabbie said cheerfully in his muted accent. Isabelle smiled. It was good to be loved, even if it was from afar and never beneath the surface. “And as for what’s new, that would be Cherry Bomb.”

“Excuse me?” she asked.

“Cherry Bomb. It opened last month, and it’s been booming ever since. Your brother has been tearing it up since it opened. If I didn’t know better, I’d say he’s half keeping it in business,” he chuckled as he made a left to the annoyance of the symphony of horns behind them.

She didn’t even ask which brother he meant. If he was talking about a club-hopping, girl-hopping, cocktail downing pretty boy, he definitely wasn’t talking about Alec. Jace could always be counted on to know where the party was. She didn’t even know he was back in town from Boston. It pained her to think that the working class of New York knew more about her family’s whereabouts than she did.

“Sounds good to me,” she said. “Show me the way.”

They drove up in front of a small doorway set into a gray brick wall, scarred with graffiti. She felt a little skeptical, but hoped that the book was more interesting than the cover. She handed the driver two hundred dollar bills, just because she’d enjoyed talking to him, and slid off the cracked leather seat to make her way to the door, bypassing the long line to the right.

The bouncer was about to protest when he looked up at her face. “Good evening, Miss Lightwood. Welcome back to the States. Your brother is inside raising hell as usual,” he said, lifting the velvet rope for her and ushering her inside. She gave him a forced smile. It pained and unnerved her this time, how people seemed to talk about her and her family like they were all old friends. That was the price you paid for limelight, she guessed.

She walked through the door and into a rather small room, all done in purple velvet and dark leather. The small dance floor in the center, at first glance, looked black. Whenever the lights hit it, however, it flashed multiple colors as if glitter was underneath the glossy top. It was a neat touch in the otherwise dark room. One could get lost in the corners in here.

She made her way through the crowd to the bar on the other end of the room, dodging the well wishers and welcomers she didn’t really know, but who knew her face and name as well as anyone did. Most of them were also famous in one way or another, or had rich parents that bought them time with people who were. There were a few exes of Isabelle’s in the crowd, who also cordially acknowledged her return to the city. She smiled her way up to the bar, where a girl with pink hair and snakebites pierced through her lower lip turned to her and smiled, asking her what she’d like.

“I’ll just take a cosmo, please,” Isabelle shouted while still looking around and scanning the room for the familiar highlighted blonde that the bouncer had told her was in here.

“Sure thing, dollface,” the bartender said, winking at her. Isabelle was used to getting passes made at her, but it was rare that it came from a girl. Rare, although not entirely nonexistent. When the girl was finished mixing and shaking, she strained Isabelle’s drink into a martini glass and handed it to her.

“Put it on my brother’s tab,” she said. “And where is he by the way?”

The bartender knew just who she was talking about. She pointed to a table about 20 feet away, and Isabelle turned to go in that direction.

She spotted him soon enough. He was, of course, surrounded by 5 or 6 Playboy wannabes, all jostling for his attention. He had a few empty glasses in front of him and was currently attempting to sweet talk the brunette seated next to him. It was useless; she’d sleep with him regardless of what he said just because of who he was. Isabelle was disgusted, as usual. She’d always thought he could do better than these mindless bimbos he surrounded himself with. He was buff, smart, and attractive, and yet he continued to go after the same girls all the time. She moved in to save him, though he probably wouldn’t see it that way.

“Alright girls, playtime’s over. Go find Hef and get a ride home. Out!” She shooed them out one by one while they all gave her death glares over their shoulders. She let them roll off of her like dust in the wind. She could care less what they thought of her.

“What the fuck, Izz?” was Jace’s greeting. But he smiled and kissed her on the cheek, picking up his Patron Silver and taking a measured sip.

“Just thought you might like to save some brain cells. If you hang around with them too long, they might destroy them all,” she said, downing half her cosmo in one gulp.

“I see that leaving all that fresh Italian meat across the pond has left you a little bitchy, sis,” he replied. This was their way. Jace and Isabelle worked in sarcasm as any artist might work with oils and acrylics. At times the rest of the family could barely stand them, but it was a bond they shared. Isabelle rolled her eyes and let the comment slide for the time being. 

“I didn’t know you were already back in town,” she said.

“Well, not for good. We still have a couple weeks of shooting left. But honestly, Boston is the most boring fuck of a town I have ever encountered. Why couldn’t we have filmed in Miami or something? At least there’s more than stuck up college chicks there.” As usual, Jace evaluated a geographical location by its potential to get him laid.

“You know, you don’t have to screw everything with tits in a ten mile radius wherever you are. You could actually sight-see and get to know the area. You know, actually give a damn that you’re traveling to all these beautiful places?” she said, knowing what his answer would be before he even opened his mouth.

“I do sight-see. I do get to know the area. This general area, right here,” he said, gesturing to his chest. “And sometimes here,” this time gesturing to his crotch. She rolled her eyes again.

Jace wasn’t really her brother, but he might as well be. He was her cousin, but her aunt and uncle died young. Isabelle’s mother, Maryse, took Jace in out of love and sorrow for her sister. She and Robert had adopted him, giving Jace the Lightwood name when he was only a few months old, before Isabelle was even born. Maryse and Celine had been twins, and both of Maryse’s biological children resembled them. They were pale with black hair and blue eyes. Isabelle tanned to get rid of the pale, and she was the only one who’d gotten dark eyes; they were almost black. Alec had her mother’s and aunt’s eyes, that piercing blue that so many people long for, but that her biological brother always seemed to want to hide.

Jace, on the other hand, didn’t look anything like his mother, Celine. He looked like his father, Stephen. He was all bronze skin and sandy sun-highlighted hair, with luminous golden eyes. His face was angular and pretty, like Alec’s, but unlike Alec, he always used it to his advantage. He had a very nice body, which he owed to his plethora of action films. He was quite successful for only being barely 22, and he liked to flaunt it. Isabelle supposed he deserved it; he’d worked to get where he was, same as she had.

“Well, just be sure you get tested regularly. Usually porn stars and Playboy bunnies don’t really take too many precautions,” she said. He laughed, brushing off her concern. “So where’s Alec? Has he called you?” she asked.

“Yeah, he called earlier this morning. He’s still in LA at training camp. Couldn’t get a flight out until tomorrow. I guess they’re running them ragged after getting kicked out of the playoffs so early. You can tell he’s still bitter, but he’ll get over it. He needs to get here and soak up some of this extra tail that’s flooded in!” He exclaimed, sweeping his hand in a grand gesture, indicating the rest of the room.

Isabelle tried not to show her disappointment, knowing that Alec wouldn’t be home until late tomorrow. They’d finally all gotten their schedules synchronized, and had been able come home for the same couple of weeks. That was like an act of Congress, considering they were all so successful in their own endeavors. Isabelle decided she wouldn’t be a whiny baby, missing her brother all night. She would have fun with her adopted brother, and enjoy her first night back in the U.S.

“So what’s the deal with this place? I heard it’s only been open a couple of months. It seems to be doing pretty damn good. Who owns it?” she asked, thinking he would probably say one of the familiar two or three names that had the money from the Manhattan nightclub scene divided evenly between them.

“I’m not really sure. Something Bane, I think. He’s usually around here somewhere, though I kind of try to steer clear of him,” Jace said with a nervous look.

“Why’s that?” Isabelle asked, curious what on earth could make her action hero brother look like that.

“Well, for starters, he’s a little fruity for me,” he said.

“You know, in my world, when you say things like ‘fruity’ it usually translates to ‘nice wardrobe, impeccable personal hygiene, and treats women right’,” Isabelle quipped.

“Well they treat women ‘right’,” he said, putting quotey fingers on the last word, “because they would rather be your best friend than sleep with you. If fruity translates to that, I’m glad no one uses that to describe me. I’d much rather sleep with the girl and be done with it.” Isabelle was not surprised at this remark.

“Whatever, Jace. You’re a pig, and you know it. Is he here tonight?” she asked, craning her neck around regardless of the fact that she had no idea who she was looking for.

“Yeah. He’s over there in the corner. Him, I’m afraid of, but the girl I’d like to bone, like, yesterday. She’s smokin’!” he said.

“Who says ‘smokin’ anymore? She’s also plastic. I had a miniature of her when I was eight. Seriously, Jace, elevate your standards a little. You know, you could do the cougar thing. It worked out well for Ashton Kutcher,” she said, and he moved to swat her on the shoulder playfully. “Okay,” she laughed. “Maybe not.”

She looked over to where he’d pointed and saw the man he was talking about. He was _definitely_ something, no doubt about it. No straight man put that much effort into his appearance. On the contrary, most straight men went the “just-rolled-out-of-bed” route, opting to leave their clothes half unbuttoned and falling off their bodies. Jace was a prime example of this with his white Hollister shirt unbuttoned to show off his toned pectorals, his faded surfer jeans hanging low on his hips and his Steve Madden boots.

The man across the room, however, looked like he’d just gotten out of four hours of professional hair and makeup. Isabelle was slightly jealous. She’d seen work on the runway that looked shitty compared to his. The makeup suited his face, accentuating the shape of his eyes and mouth. His clothes hung strategically loosely on his slim frame, and made him look substantial instead of slight. He had on skin tight leather pants, too. That was a bold move for any man. She mentally applauded him. She was also struck by the strong desire to talk to him and get some of his makeup and wardrobe secrets. But she stayed put and had a fun time with her middle brother, wishing the eldest was here, even though he’d probably hate it.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I sure hope you like exposition because hoooo boy 22 year old me couldn't get enough. Thank you for reading! Comments are literally my lifeblood.
> 
> Story blog: @ [theglamourverse](https://theglamourverse.tumblr.com/)  
> Personal blog: @ [maybe-theres-hope](https://maybe-theres-hope.tumblr.com)


	2. Lightwood 32

## Fell on Black Days by Soundgarden 

Alec barely made it up the steps to his condo. He was absolutely exhausted. Coach thought they needed to be punished after the 3-0 loss to Portland that had ended their shot at the Cup. He supposed Coach was right. Still, he was sure some of his leg muscles had given up on him, going into hibernation. He could hardly get them to put one foot in front of the other. When he reached his bedroom, he dropped his duffel full of gear and flopped down on his bed.

He was glad he’d made himself shower before he left the locker room today. He usually waited until he’d gotten home to shower, considering the inevitable dilemma that always descended when he even thought about the rest of the team being naked in the same room with him. He didn’t like the feelings it called up, feelings that should not be had by a male in a male locker room, he knew. But today, he’d made himself do it because he knew when he got to this moment, on his bed, he wouldn’t be able to get back up for the rest of the night.

The next morning, Alec woke in the same position from the night before, still fully clothed in jeans and a black t-shirt, his LA Galaxy warm-up jacket, and boots. He felt refreshed, though, and ready for the day. He’d showered just before putting on these clothes, so he figured they were okay to travel in anyway. He was glad he’d taken the time to pack the previous morning, before he’d gone to practice. He was excited to see his family, but mostly he was excited to get away from LA and all its pretty-ness for a while. Not that New York would be much different, but then again, one could hope.

He heaved himself off the bed, checking his pockets for his keys and cell phone, both of which were still there. The phone was only on 43%, but he figured he could charge it at a kiosk once he got to the terminal. His flight was in 3 hours, but it took an hour in traffic to get to LAX, and then another hour and a half to make it through security, if he was lucky. He’d had a good night’s sleep and he was ready to go. He grabbed his second duffel, white with the blue and gold LA Galaxy logo on the side. Alec didn’t need to pack much, as he only ever wore t-shirts and sweaters with jeans, so he’d save time not having to check a suitcase.

He slung his bag over his shoulder, grabbing his iPod as he walked out the door. He said goodbye to his best friend in LA, which was a black on black Aston Martin DB9 that he bought with his first paycheck after signing with the team. He closed the garage, a rare luxury in LA, and looked back one last time to make sure she was securely protected.

He loved that car. Not in the same way most men might love their cars, but in a co-dependent way. The car was his means of escape. When he was feeling the crushing weight of reality on his shoulders, his secrets piling up and threatening to consume him, he just jumped in and gunned it, slipping away to the desert or the valley or wherever the powerful cylinders took him. He could breathe when he was inside. He sometimes talked to the steering wheel, unloading his problems on the dashboard and feeling the weight lift for whatever fleeting moments he could afford. He was looking forward to seeing his family, it was true. But he definitely was not looking forward to the crushing, boxed-in feeling he got when he was home, like a caged animal with no means of escape except cabs and traffic jams and bars. He supposed it was worth it to see Izzy and Jace again. Not that he hadn’t seen them on multiple billboards around town anyway. But the ads never did the real thing justice.

He made his way to the cab he'd called and threw his bag in the trunk, directing the driver to LAX. He turned on his iPod and shoved his earbuds in, turning on Soundgarden. A fitting song for the journey ahead.

When he reached the airport, he threw money at the driver and bolted out of the car, grabbing his bag. He already felt suffocated as he made his way through to the security line. He got lucky that the line was rather short, for LAX anyway, and a short hour later he was making his way through the terminal to his gate.

“Excuse me! Excuse me! Wait!” he heard a small voice calling to him from a couple of yards behind. He turned to see a young boy, about 8 or 9 years old, running after him and panting. His father, Alec assumed, was shuffling to keep up.

Alec smiled as the boy came near. He was wearing the Galaxy’s dark blue visitor jersey with the gold trim, the team logo over his heart. He was still trying to catch his breath.

“Hi there, little bro,” he said cheerfully. He was grateful for little things like this that seemed to make his life worthwhile. “What can I do for you?”

“You’re Alexander Lightwood, aren’t you?” the boy asked with a twinkle in his eye.

“I am,” Alec said. He didn’t even wince when the boy used his full name. He expected he would. Jace was the only one in the family that used his nickname in his professional career, simply because he hated his real name so much.

The boy’s face lit up like he was meeting a rockstar. “Could…could you…could you sign my jersey?” he stuttered, starry-eyed.

“Sure, man. You got a marker?” the boy nodded and looked at his dad. The older man handed Alec a sharpie. Alec knelt down to the boy’s level and signed his full name right above the LA Galaxy logo on the boy’s chest. It looked like the boy was about to faint from happiness. Alec couldn’t help but smile, despite his dark mood.

“Thanks, Mr. Lightwood,” the boy’s father said. “He’s a huge fan, as you can tell,” he chuckled. “Sorry to bother you, if you’re on your way somewhere.”

“No it’s fine. I’m headed home, actually. New York,” he said.

“Well, have a safe trip. It was very nice to meet you, sir,” the dad said.

“Thank you so much, Mr. Lightwood! And trust me, they shouldn’t have called that yellow card on you in the 28th minute against United. I was so mad!” the little boy exclaimed.

Alec laughed and ducked his head. The kid was obviously a huge fan if he remembered so much detail about a game that had taken place weeks ago. “Thanks, man. What’s your name?” Alec asked.

“Max! My name’s Max,” the boy said, excited that his hero knew his name now.

“Well, Max, keep up the home front. Maybe we’ll come back and take it all next season,” he said with a genuine smile.

“Okay, let the man get to his flight, son.” Turning back to Alec, he said, “Thanks again. He’ll cherish that jersey forever now. You’re his hero.”

“Oh, it’s no problem. I’m happy to still have any fans after that last game,” he laughed. “Bye, Max!” he said as the boy and his father turned away in the other direction, the boy still gushing excitedly about the encounter.

Alec was momentarily gratified that the back of Max’s jersey, for once in Alec’s life, didn’t say Beckham across the top. He liked his teammate, but it was nice to see Lightwood and the number 32 across the back for a change. He smiled and made his way to his gate, boarding the plane for home.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading :) This chapter is super short so the next one is coming pretty soon. As always, thank you for your comments!


	3. Old Habits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is still a little bit about establishing all the players here. Bear with me I swear there's plot haha

##  Hysteria by Muse

Ten hours and two layovers later, Alexander Lightwood landed at La Guardia. He sat up, earbuds still in, and waited for his turn to get up, grab his bag, and depart. It took a while, with everyone shuffling around and grabbing bags from the overhead bins, but finally he was out in the terminal. With his white duffel bag slung over his shoulder, he made his way to the doors amid the mid-day airport hustle and bustle. It was the week before Thanksgiving, so the crowd was full of tourists on long vacation and students leaving early for visits home.

He was stopped a couple of times to sign autographs, and to be told that his sister came through here just yesterday. He didn’t mind having fans, but sometimes it was odd that strangers knew so much about him and his family. But that was the price you paid for limelight. Not that he actually  _ wanted _ to be famous; he just always wanted to play for one of the best clubs in American soccer, and with that came a famous teammate, so naturally some fame rubbed off on the rest of the team. He would never acknowledge it, but his own fans didn’t really care that he played with David Beckham; he was an amazing player in his own right. That’s why he  _ had _ fans. But Alec chose to remain as aloof as possible. He didn’t really like attention.

He stepped outside the doors, and went to hail a cab. Suddenly, he spotted a familiar face and half sighed, half smiled. Hodge, the family driver, was standing next to his parents’ Rolls Royce a few yards away, waving to him. Alec grudgingly made his way through the crowd, plastering a smile on his face before he hugged Hodge, the older man welcoming him home. Alec liked Hodge, but he hadn’t been planning on a big to-do ride home in a two-hundred thousand dollar car. A cab was just fine. The car only mattered if  _ he _ was driving.

“Well, look at you! You’re taller than I remember, boy. And huge. You’re not getting into those performance enhancing things are you?” Hodge joked. He was exaggerating. Alec was about 6’2”, and had a typical soccer player’s build. Strong, muscular calves and thighs, abs that were toned to a six pack, but not very intimidating, and cut pectorals. His arms were muscular, but nowhere near bulky. He tended to think he was rather slight, next to his teammates.

But he knew Hodge was just reacting to the fact that he hadn’t seen Alec in quite some time. It had been two years since Alec signed with the Galaxy and left for LA. Since Jace’s and Isabelle’s careers required them to spend considerable time in California anyway, and his parents could afford to fly out to see him during the season, he never really had the need to come back to New York. Now he was 23 years old and finally stepping foot back into the town he’d thought he’d left for good. He sighed inwardly again.

“How are Jace and Isabelle? Did they make it home okay?” he asked as Hodge took his bag and put it in the trunk of the car.

“Oh you know Jace. He’s been partying since he got back last week. And Isabelle arrived yesterday evening. She was in the house all of ten minutes; I suspect Italy didn’t get rid of her disdain for your mother and father. She was rather sullen that you weren’t home yet when she got there,” he said warmly. Alec and his sister were very close, and sometimes it pained him that they saw so little of each other. Isabelle had been in Milan for four months, so they’d only been able to talk on the phone occasionally. When he found out he was going to have to wait another day to fly home, she’d been on the plane so he couldn’t get hold of her. He’d told Jace, hoping he wouldn’t be an idiot and forget to let her know.

He climbed in the backseat and let his head fall back. He would get through this.

When the Rolls pulled up in front of the Lightwood home, Isabelle was the first to run out and greet him. She barely let him get out of the car before she jumped up in his arms. He caught her and hugged her close. Something about Isabelle always made him feel at ease. He felt like he could be himself around her, tell her anything. Well, anything except… _ that _ . 

“Oh my God! I missed you so much you fucker! Why did you have to wait another day? You said you’d be home yesterday!” she exclaimed as he set her down. Next to her, he felt downright stocky. She was tall at 5’10”, but very thin, like most models he supposed, but not sick-looking like the others. She watched her weight very closely, always obsessing over the labels on food, only eating organic. But that was Isabelle, and he loved her.

“Well, if you watched sports you’d know. We lost to Portland in the first round and Coach was riding our asses. We had an extra day of practice, so I couldn’t get a flight till this morning. But I don’t blame you for not watching  _ that _ game. We sucked royally. We weren’t really on our best game, and I was all sluggish ‘cause of my knee, and—“

Isabelle gave him a funny look. “Alec, really. Do you think I can keep up with your sports talk? Seriously. You’re home now, so let’s talk about fun stuff! Like, oh my God there’s this new club in town called Cherry Bomb. Me and Jace were there last night and it was amazing! You’d like it. It’s all dark and mysterious and you can blend right into the walls if you want to,” she teased. Isabelle knew he hated crowds and loud music and  _ dancing _ .

But he noticed something in her speech that made him smile big. It was the first time in a while he’d been called Alec. To the outside world, he was always Alexander Lightwood, number 32. He was Alec  _ only _ to his family, just as Isabelle was Izzy  _ only _ to the family. Jace had dropped his full name, Jonathan Christopher, a long time ago, and had gone by his initials when he was younger. But one day Isabelle had called him Jace out of habit in an interview and it stuck. Jace was fine with it; preferred it actually. But when it came to Alec, his nickname was only for people he loved dearly. And with that, he immediately felt at home.

After he’d gone upstairs and unpacked his things, he and Isabelle were sitting in the den watching T.V. when their brother came bounding in. Alec had seen his latest movie, and it hadn’t done him justice. He looked even more ripped in person, but Alec supposed they were alike in their love of working out. He was glad to see his brother, had missed him just as much as Izzy. But it was these conflicting feelings that always threatened to pull him under; the feeling of longing for solitude as opposed to being surrounded by the glitz and glamour that was the Lightwood life. All of a sudden he was wishing for his car back home. He didn’t have anyone to talk to like that here.

“What’s up, bro? Long time no see!” Jace said, plopping down in an immaculate white armchair with a bag of Funyuns.

“Yeah, I know. It’s weird to be here after so long. Mom redecorated,” he observed, looking around the room.

“Yeah she got some gay dude to do it for her. He knows his shit, though. These chairs are the bomb,” he said, crunching on a ring.

Alec’s head popped up at the word  _ gay _ . His face turned red. He tried to dispel the conflicting anger and embarrassment that erupted inside him. He tried to tell himself that Jace’s casual use of the word was a  _ good _ thing. It implied that he didn’t know it applied to someone else in the room. Alec tried to comfort himself with that.

“Yeah, and she’ll probably murder you when she sees you eating on them. You’re not the golden boy in this house, you know,” Isabelle retorted.

“Oh, that just goes to show how much you know. I happen to be the golden boy of the world, dear sister. Look at me. I’m young, sexy, and well… _ golden, _ ” he chuckled sarcastically.

“And when Alec wipes that look of disgust off his face and uses his power kick on you, you’ll be young and broken and  _ red _ ,” Izzy returned. Alec laughed despite himself.

And just like that, they weren’t a famous soccer player, an action movie hero, and a successful model. They were Alec and Jace and Izzy, siblings sitting around watching T.V. and laughing like they were teenagers again.

* * *

##  From Yesterday by 30 Seconds to Mars

Clary sat riveted in her seat, watching the band work their magic on the crowd. They were singing her second favorite song in the world, and her best friend was doing a fantastic job channeling Jared Leto. She watched with interest as his fingers moved across the strings, down the neck, caressing the fret board. She’d always wished she could play, and he’d offered to teach her a couple of times, but she’d always chickened out when her fingers started to get calloused. She complained that her fingers ached so bad she couldn’t draw; he relented because, well, that was her livelihood just as music was his.

So she settled for watching him. He’d grown up a lot recently, she thought to herself. She’d just been too busy with shows and finally starting to sell her works that she hadn’t noticed. He’d lost the glasses in favor of contacts (even though she disapproved of the gray color. He said it was cool, she said it hid his best features, which were a rich chocolate brown). He’d slimmed down, lost all his baby fat. About time, as he’d just turned 21. He still kept up his teenage uniform, though. Old Nirvana t-shirts and faded, ripped jeans over beat up Doc Martins. But it suited him and the lifestyle he led, playing in bars and pubs and other small gigs.

The Boys In The Band had recorded one album, the first copy of which Simon gave to Clary on the day they hit shelves. For a while, it was the only copy  _ off _ the shelves. But they were steadily gaining credit. They now had three singles getting airplay on the underground stations, and had an offer from a music video director for their latest one. They were doing rather well for a bunch of boys from Brooklyn that randomly decided they were going to start a band one day.

As the song ended, the crowd in the small Brooklyn bar erupted into applause. Clary smiled, clapping along with them. The frontman’s eyes went straight to her and shot her a huge smile, like she was the only one in the room. She felt herself blush slightly, but pushed it down. He was just proud and wanted to make sure his best friend knew it.

She couldn’t understand how he did it, got up there every night in front of people who might either love him or hate him, and subject himself to artistic judgment head on. She was proud of her work, but she never allowed herself to be directly associated with it. Her paintings were displayed in several galleries around Manhattan, but each of them was signed with a pseudonym: Clarissa Fairchild. But 20 year old Clary Fray had been told by more than one gallery owner that sooner or later she’d have to come out of hiding, because her work was getting better, was getting noticed by more and more buyers.

As the band thanked the crowd and descended off the stage, she stood to welcome the hug she knew was coming.

“Thanks for coming, Clary. I know you still have to finish a lot of stuff for that studio in Manhattan,” Simon said as he let her go.

“Simon, you know I’ll always do my best to be at every show I can. And this one was basically in my own backyard,” she said, smiling. “So there was really no way of getting out of it.”

“True that, bro,” he said with a laugh. They were like siblings, and had been since they were about 9. She was very proud of her best friend, and he was proud of her. They supported each other’s accomplishments and shared the occasional loving moment, but that was where it ended.

More than once her parents had told her that one day that boy was going to come to the door and get down on one knee. But she just couldn’t see Simon that way. He was her friend, that nerdy little Jewish kid with glasses that could barely sing a note. Even now that he was a successful musician, and very attractive in a grungy, I-don’t-care musician kind of way, she still saw Simon as practically a brother. Every now and then he would do or say something that was a little odd, considering the confines of their relationship, but she would brush it off as being not what it seemed. Little did she know.

* * *

When Simon was on stage, he only saw her. He always sang and played right to her. She was the only streak of color in an otherwise bleak world. From her slight, pale frame to her fiery hair to her delicate artist’s hands, she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

He’d known her since they were kids, but one day it had hit him head on: her beauty. He longed to tell her how he felt, how he had felt for the past five or six years now. But he was so afraid it would ruin the friendship they had cultivated. Wouldn’t it turn awkward? Wouldn’t they not be able to talk about the same things, interact in the same carefree way? That’s what he was afraid of. Part of what he loved about Clary was their level of comfort with each other.

They had an unspoken language most of the time, knowing what the other was thinking with just a look. Clary’s father, Luke, called them Mulder and Scully, because they were co-dependent on each other to the point of near insanity. Or it could have been that he was tall, lanky, and brunette, while she was short, snarky and redheaded. But he suspected it was a little of both.

When he hugged her after the show, he found himself holding a little too tight. He let go, hoping she hadn’t noticed. She usually didn’t; he slipped up a lot and she never said anything. He’d look at her a little too long, or hold her a little too tight, or grab for her hand when the moment didn’t really warrant it, at least between friends. But she never called him out on it. He had a feeling she didn’t even suspect. He found that hard to believe, considering he was slowly being consumed by his love for her.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading and commenting! Your nostalgia for this story is fun to read :)


	4. Reinvention

##  Better in Time by Leona Lewis 

Magnus lay in bed, his iPod dock letting out the sweet sounds of Leona Lewis. Every now and then he’d catch himself humming along, then he would remember how his mother used to tell him he’d be a singer someday with his powerful, emotional voice, and he’d stop. He couldn’t do that anymore. That was something that reminded him of her way too much.

He got up, reached under his bed and pulled out his most prized possession, above all his designer clothes and his accessories and makeup. The album full of photos of his beautiful mother. He took it out occasionally, when he was feeling particularly alone; the pages were filled with happy memories, the only happy memories he had of her anymore. They were all from before “the incident” as he liked to refer to it. Images of that horrible time came bounding up whenever he thought about it, and he couldn’t fight them back.

When Magnus was younger, he’d lived in London with his parents. His father was French, but his mother was from an old New York family, that much he knew. But they never talked about being rich, or really ever had much money to spend. By Magnus’ standards, they had an okay life so it didn’t really matter. Magnus went to a prestigious school, his father was a professor at the local college, and his mother worked as an event planner for lots of local charities. When he was young, Magnus was blind to the real problems that were going on right under their roof.

When he was fourteen, Magnus started noticing little changes in his parents’ dynamic. His mother told him much later that they’d been going on for a while, but that she and his father had gotten sloppier at hiding it. They had simply...fallen out of love with each other. By the time Magnus was 17, they could barely stand the sight of each other and they’d stopped trying to hide it anymore. 

Finally, Magnus’ mother found out that his father had been seeing one of his students for a few months. She blew up at him, and he called her a shriveled old woman, which was preposterous. Magnus’ mother was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. 

After that, he supposed his mother thought she deserved a little revenge. At one of her events, she met a very attractive young man. She said he’d made her laugh and made her feel beautiful again. She raved about his smile and his stupid jokes and the way he held her hand so gently and even at such a young age, Magnus could tell she loved him. She’d changed; the fire had been re-awakened in her. He was happy for her, but he was also afraid his father would find out.

His father was the type of man that thought the rules didn’t apply to him. He could certainly sleep with whoever he wanted, but his wife was bound by the law to obey and honor him. As long as they were married, she was a prisoner to him. Sooner or later, he found out about her little love affair. 

Everything turned to shit then.

Magnus had been away in America at Florida State when the letter came from an estate manager back in London, telling him he needed to come home immediately. There was a plane ticket enclosed.

When he arrived in London, he was sent to the offices of the man who’d sent him the letter. This man told him that his mother was dead, and that his father had been arrested for her murder. He didn’t hear much after that but later, at the trial, he’d found out the story.

His father had waited until he knew his mother and her lover were at the other man’s home. He’d taken his hunting rifle, and snuck in a window. He found them in the living room, watching old movies and laughing together. He butted the barrel against the back of the man’s head, at the base of his skull, and fired. He never saw it coming. That was his plan, he’d said. For his wife to see, and know what was coming for her. He’d called her a cheating, ungrateful cunt, and shot her in the chest. Then he’d left out the front door. He hadn’t gotten far when the police picked him up; neighbors had heard the shots.

When Magnus was called to testify to his father’s sanity, he didn’t know what to do. He loved his father, but what the man had done ultimately couldn’t be forgiven. Magnus told the judge that his father and mother had grown angry with each other, and constantly threatened one another with divorce and things like that, but that his father was completely sane. This made his father very mad, and made Magnus very glad that the man was behind bars now, so he couldn’t get at his son. Even now, years later, Magnus still had constant conflicting feelings about how he might have betrayed his father; but he knew he’d done the right thing. Sometimes, he now simply acted as if he'd never had a father. He hadn't spoken to or of him in a very long time.

After the trial was over, Magnus had dropped out of school. He couldn’t focus anymore. He didn’t want to go home, either. He didn’t know what he was going to do.

His blessing came in the form of an ordinary phone call that changed his life. The estate planner called to tell him that his mother had a will, and everything that was hers, she left to him. Magnus said that was all well and good, but there wasn’t much anyway, so he didn’t see how it could help. The man informed him that she’d been extremely careful in hiding something from his father.

The man told Magnus that the old New York family his mother came from was the Vanderbilts. Her grandfather had left her close to 14 million dollars that she had saved and put into a different account under her maiden name when she was 18. It now belonged to Magnus.

In that moment, he knew exactly what he wanted to do with it. He said goodbye to London and his beloved mother, and flew to New York. He bought a loft in Brooklyn that didn’t remind him of home in the least and decorated it with fine furnishings, but kept it eclectic. He’d never liked the stuffiness of their London home, so he steered clear of pretentious decorating. He bought a new wardrobe. He started vamping up his makeup. He re-invented himself. He discovered that his true self had been hiding for a long time, and now he finally felt right.

He’d never told his parents he was bisexual. It wasn’t that he tried to hide it, he just never brought it up and he suspected they were glad not knowing. He’d had the occasional fling in high school, after he’d discovered SoHo. He lost his virginity to a guy at 16, and that had blossomed into a relationship, and it had been horrible. The next few times, it got a little better. Once he left home and went to New York, he immersed himself in the dating scene. He slept with 5 or 6 guys and girls, all incredibly gorgeous, wannabe models or actors, but he never found exactly what he was looking for. He kept dating, though, just for the fun of it. He hated being alone.

He’d met Camille at a party for some designer or whatever. It turned out they had a lot of the same interests: fashion, Mae West, crowds, and a good glass of red wine, among other things. One night he unloaded his sob story on her. It had been her idea to open the lounge. She told him that he should put his money to good use, and in a way that he could enjoy. Sure, he gave some to charity and such, but he liked the idea of creating his own ideal atmosphere and inviting the socialites of New York to partake. When they’d gone to scout the building, The Runaways were playing on the radio in his purple 911 Turbo. And thus, Cherry Bomb was born, leading him into the glitz and glamour he lived in now.

He gazed down at his mother’s image, copied over and over on the pages of the album.

“I hope you’re proud of me, mom,” he said. “I tried my best. I’m sorry you’re not here to enjoy it.”

Later on, before the lounge opened for the night, he was sitting at the bar talking to Katinka, a girl he’d once tried to sleep with because he’d been enamored by her neon pink hair and piercings. Needless to say, the encounter fell romantically flat. They were better off friends, they both acknowledged. When he opened his place, he remembered that she’d said she knew how to tend bar. When he gave her a trial night at the lounge, he had to admit she was brilliant. She could service about 10 people at once without ever writing anything down; she just laid all the money in a row and typed it into the register when she finally got a free moment, never forgetting what each pile of bills was for. She was smooth, talkative, and confident. She was also bisexual as well. 

Magnus didn’t like to say he was bi, really. He liked guys a lot more than he liked girls. In fact, he hadn’t even thought about being with a girl since Katinka a year ago. He missed the feeling of a hard chest and strong arms around him. The only two times he’d been in love, it had been with guys. He never really felt anything but faint lust with girls. Sure, they were sexy, emotionally mature, and  _ clean _ , but he never really had thoughts of the future with any of them, other than friendship. 

As the night wore on and the time came to open up the lounge, he retreated to his office, which was more of an overgrown dressing room complete with a vanity and closet full of clothes. He put on one of his best outfits, donned a lot more eyeliner, and dusted a bit of glitter into his hair. He took one last look in the mirror and cocked his lopsided smile.

* * *

##  Ramalama by Roisin Murphy 

After working the crowd for a bit, Magnus and Camille posted up at their usual corner booth to survey the attendees.

“It’s a little slow tonight,” Magnus observed as he sipped his trademark blue cocktail.

“It’s only ten. Give it a little time,” Camille said. She was right, he supposed. The place didn’t usually start hopping until around midnight.

“Whatever. I’m convinced there’s going to be zero eye candy to work with tonight,” he said with a sigh.

“Oh, don’t be melodramatic. There’s bound to be a few juicy pieces in this crowd. You just have to know where to look,” she countered. “For instance, look in the far corner,” she pointed.

“I don’t see anyone of interest,” he said without even looking. He was in the mood to be sullen.

“I’m serious, Magnus. Check out the import over there,” she prodded. He looked up and searched in the direction she pointed.

“Is that…?” he trailed off, overcome by shallow lust.

“Yeah. Luscious lips, washboard abs and all,” Camille said, smiling to herself, biting her lip. 

“Damn, he’s even sexier in person,” Magnus observed, staring at the foreign actor who was apparently on holiday in the states after wrapping the latest season of his juicy TV drama.

“I’ve heard he can’t speak very much English, though.”

“I really could care less about speaking. Why waste those incredible lips wrapping them around words when they could be wrapping around my cock?”

“You know he’s not really gay, right? Just a really good actor,” Camille informed him.

“I don’t think he’s completely straight. He plays gay way too well and he enjoys it way too much. I could help him out of the closet,” Magnus said with an evil smile, even though he had no intention of ambushing the rather well known European actor.

“I’m pretty sure he’s straight,” she said, pointing to his left. Her reasoning was solidified by the way he hung on the girl next to him like she was air to breathe. Magnus sighed.

“I’m convinced I’m never going to find a good one. All the cute ones are either straight or, if they’re dick-leaning, they’re basket cases. Too emotional or too obsessed with themselves. I’m vain enough for two people; I don’t need to keep some other narcissistic little shit around just to fuck me. I need a real man in my life.” He knew he was whining, but he couldn’t help it.

“Oh sweetie, you need to lose that mentality. Mama always said never let a man define you, and I’m pretty sure she knew what she was talking about. You just need to give it time. In the meantime, if you’re feeling lonely, find yourself a little toy to play with. Flesh and blood or battery and plastic, take your pick. Both essentially work out the same for me,” she said, taking another sip.

They continued the rest of the night in the same way, discussing who in the crowd was drop dead gorgeous, and who was nearing the end of their career and just wouldn’t acknowledge it. They laughed and joked, and Magnus momentarily forgot his love woes.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and commenting!


	5. Shock at the Art Show

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some more of setting up everyone's personalities. Next chapter is the one everyone wants :)

##  Possum Kingdom by Toadies

Clary sat behind her easel, trying to think what was missing from the image in front of her. It was a picture of her mother, who’d passed away about five years ago. She’d been an artist also, and had passed the talent to her daughter. Her father had loved her mother dearly, and sometimes Clary was a little worried about him. He would retreat to his room from time to time, looking at pictures of their wedding day and crying silent tears. But he never cried when he looked at Clary’s works. They always made him beam with love and remembrance.

This particular image was a reproduction of a picture from her mother’s younger days, before she’d met Luke. It was one of those stupid backdrop portraits from the early 80s, the ones that everyone seemed to staring off into space in. Apparently that was cool at the time. It was faded and washed out, but her mother’s face still made the dumb idea of a portrait look like a picture of a goddess. Clary’s take on it made the image all blues and grays, while her mom shone with her fiery hair and milky skin in the center.

“Make up yo’ mind, decide to walk with me around the lake tonight…around the lake tonight…by my siiiide,” came the familiar voice from behind the easel, across the room. He even sang the guitar parts with a little twang in his voice, playing air guitar as he did so. She had to smile to herself.

“My blushin’ briiide! My lover, beee my lover yeaaahhh!” Simon screamed. He even made screaming sound good. She was tempted to turn off the music and let him do it himself; it would sound just as good.

“You guys should cover that one too,” she said. It was purely selfish, her request. She’s the one that had requested From Yesterday the other night, simply because she loved to hear Simon’s voice sing it. The Toadies song was even better. Simon had a Kurt Cobain kind of voice; that kind that was scratchy and grungy and a little off tune sometimes, but that always ended up making it sound even better. It always sounded full of feeling and she absolutely loved it.

“Yeah, that would be cool. But, ya know, we’ve got to do some of our own shit sometimes,” he laughed. That was true. Their music was getting a lot of local airplay and they were finally to the point where some people in the audience would sing along with their obscure singles.

While he was in a good mood, she thought she should broach the subject that had been weighing on her mind. “Simon?” she began.

“Que pasa, chica?” he quipped without so much as an attempt at the right accent.

“Well, I was thinking that maybe, um, you would like to go to the show tomorrow? Maybe as moral support?”

“Real funny, Fray. What makes you ask, anyway? You know I’m coming, regardless,” he said, a little surprised.

“Well it starts at, like, five. It’s still daylight then. And I personally haven’t seen you set foot outside before eight in a long ass time. I swear you’re like a vampire sometimes,” she said, not altogether joking.

“Oh yeah. That’s me. I’m a bloodsucking creature of the night. I might as well be. I could get a lot more chicks that way,” he said sarcastically.

“Sure you could. Steal some of Edward Cullen’s fans. Start gelling your hair and wearing glitter and pretentious pea coats, and the girls will come running,” she said.

“Oh  _ hell _ no, missy. If I’m going to be a vampire, I’m Eric fucking Northman. Jesus, I have to have actual fangs at least. Edward’s such a whiny baby, and he doesn’t even get all the fun parts of being a vamp. He doesn’t suck on girls’ necks OR have fangs to scare people with. That must blow.”

“But he’s so pretty,” she said, chuckling.

“You’ve said that about Eric, too, remember?” She had to concede that she had. “And at least he’s a Viking. That’s badass. So I’m him,” he said with finality. She snickered, going back to her painting.

“But seriously, you’ll come?” she pressed.

“Of course I will. Wouldn’t miss it even for free Ben and Jerry’s,” he said, getting out of his chair and coming over to admire her work. “That looks really good, Clary,” he told her, looking back and forth between the painting and the original. “Looks just like her.”

“I miss her, Simon,” Clary said suddenly, a tear welling up in her eye. Simon reached over and gingerly wiped it away before it got too far down her cheek.

“Me too. I miss her PB and J’s. Way better than my mom’s,” he said, smiling and trying to make her do the same. It worked. Clary laid her head on his shoulder, then thought better of it. There was that awkward feeling again. They quickly stepped a few inches apart. “You nervous about tomorrow?”

“Of course I am. It’s the first time I’ll have to actually be there and acknowledge my own work. I don’t like people putting my face with my work, it makes me feel like they’re judging me all the time. When it’s anonymous, it’s not so bad.” She was rambling out of nervousness for the coming night. “Plus,” she added, “the owner invited a bunch of Hollywood types. Simon, there will be famous people looking at my art. Criticizing it. Oh em gee. I think I’m going to puke.”

“ _ I’ll _ puke if you start talking in text-speak. It’ll be fine, Fray. Don’t sweat it. And if there happens to be a riot over your awesome paintings, and punches start to get thrown, I can calm them all with my awesome vampire seduction powers,” he said, teasing. “Is this one going in the show?”

“No, I don’t think so. I think I’m going to give it to Dad for their anniversary,” she mused. “It’s a little personal for the show.”

“That’s a good idea. He’ll love it, I know it.”

“Thanks, Simon,” she said.

“Anytime, half-pint,” he returned, smiling.

**********

##  U & Ur Hand by Pink

“This is soooo going to blow,” Jace said, dreading the night ahead. He hated art. It was boring, pretentious, and subjective. Something was good art when so-and-so big wig said it was. He didn’t know what it had to do with him, but Isabelle was dragging him to the show. He was just mildly glad that she’d conned Alec into going also. His brother was just as squeamish about these cocktail party types of things as he was. But Jace’s reason for hating it was quite different from Alec’s. Whereas his brother was something of a socially anxious awkward turtle, Jace’s problem was much simpler: there was hardly ever any good snatch to be had at these stuck up shindigs.

“Oh shut up, you need some culture in your life. Quit being a shallow juicehead and suck it up.” Isabelle was busy putting the finishing touches on her makeup, the counter in her oversized bathroom littered with compacts and eyeshadow palettes. “At least Alec’s being a good sport.”

“No, he hates it too, he’s just too polite to tell you. I, on the other hand, have no qualms about expressing my disgust with the whole thing,” he retorted, examining his nails and looking in the mirror, fixing his Armani tie. He had to admit, he looked damn good. It was a shame it would be wasted on stuffy old people, most likely. He’d actually directly received an invitation to the art show in the Upper East Side, but he’d put it in the circular file as soon as he saw what it was. He had no business at an event like that. Little did he know that Isabelle had received the same invitation and, well. What Isabelle wanted, she got, and she wanted her brothers to attend. It didn’t help that she’d pleaded her case to their mother, who’d agreed it would be good for her children’s images to be a little more polished. 

“Patience is a virtue, you know. You never know who could be there. Once again, I think you should really give the cougar thing a shot.” He picked up a pillow off the bench by her dressing table and threw it at her, which bounced off her shoulder prompting her to give him a dirty look. He rolled his eyes and went to go find Alec.

He turned the corner down the hallway and made his way to Alec's room. To say that it was "Alec's room" anymore was sort of a misnomer, since he hadn't been home much since he was a teenager. After he left for college and especially after he signed with the Galaxy, the room had pretty much sat unused. It still had the Batman motif on the bed (which, Jace knew, Alec didn't actually mind much since he was still a fan). It was smaller than Jace and Izzy's rooms, too, but Jace also knew his eldest brother didn't mind that either. He was always rather reclusive and he packed light, so it was still a suitable size for him.

Since the dress code for tonight was semi-formal, Alec had to borrow one of Jace’s suits since he hadn’t packed any. Jace had laughed at his expression when Isabelle informed him he would be wearing a suit tonight. Alec hated dressing up; he was such a jock, always dressing in t-shirts and jeans and tennis shoes except on game days. Jace, on the other hand, kept a steady supply of tuxedos and suits for premieres, parties and such. He didn’t really understand why Alec hadn’t brought at least one suit for his visit; knowing their parents, they’d be going to a lot of these gala type things. In New York, you never knew when you’d need a good stuffy outfit.

As he walked into the room, he admired his older brother with a smirk. Jace Lightwood was known for his action films, and thus for his buff body. Alec, on the other hand, had a soccer player’s slighter, more athletic build. Thus, Jace’s slightly shiny, charcoal gray Carolina Herrera suit looked a little too baggy on him. But this was what they had to work with, and there hadn’t been time to take it in. But that didn’t seem to be the problem.

“I know you hate this as much as I do, so why don’t we gang up on her?” Jace asked as Alec frantically smoothed his hair in the mirror and kept looking himself up and down with apprehension.

“Because you know how much she likes these things. Gives her a chance to show off all that stuff she got in Italy. And you never know, maybe we’ll like it,” he said, but Jace could tell he didn’t mean it.

“Oh, come on bro! Let’s skip out early at least. Go grab some drinks. I know this new club in town, the girls are fucking gorgeous,” Jace said hopefully. He knew Alec wasn’t much for partying, but he thought he’d give it a shot. But all he got in response was a shrug.

Alec sighed, looking disdainfully at his appearance. Jace left his perch on the door frame and walked up to him.

“Don’t worry big bro, we’ll find you someone soon. I can definitely tell you haven’t been laid in a while.”

Alec just shrugged again, looking uncomfortable. He’d never had much play with the ladies. He was good looking, but he tended to stumble over words and not really care much what girls thought of him. Jace, being the family Casanova, could not understand his disinterest in the least. But he supposed everyone had their own ways.

“Well, you could always do the cougar thing,” Jace said, stealing Isabelle’s line. “Just make sure you look extra stuffy,” he laughed. He moved his hands up to tighten Alec’s loosened tie, and straightened his jacket. When he caught Alec’s eyes again, he had the look of a deer caught in headlights.

“Jesus, man! I’m just joking. I won’t stick you with Betty White or anything. But you definitely need some skirt in your life. I will see to that,” Jace said, clapping him on the back and moving away. “Come on, Izzy’s almost ready. We’ll meet you downstairs.” He turned and descended, leaving his brother alone.

When they got to the show, Jace was pleasantly surprised. There happened to be a lot of younger girls here. Maybe enough for him, and possibly one or two for Alec, he thought. They entered, one on each of Isabelle’s arms. She, of course, smiled cordially at all the greetings thrown their way. He greeted the familiar faces, some he knew from the film business, some from his parents’ usual social circle. He did the gentlemanly thing and stayed by Isabelle’s side for the first half hour or so.

Then, his world got turned upside down. As a man climbed a podium at the front of the room, all the gathered people turned to face him as he introduced tonight’s featured artist, Clarissa Fairchild. As she ascended the podium, looking like she was going to throw up, Jace felt the wind knocked out of him. She was _beautiful_.

She was wildly different from the girls he usually flocked to, which were usually blondes with big tits and small brains. But this girl was short, redheaded, and freckly. She also was clearly uncomfortable with so many eyes on her, stuttering her thanks for them attending and inviting them to view the entire gallery at their leisure. She stepped down from her post, and he immediately made his way to her.

He found her next to one of her paintings, this one of a small row house with a view of the East River. It was cute and endearing, he thought, but that was as far as his art critique went. He approached her slowly, remembering that she was shy.

“Hello,” he said, offering his hand. “I’m Jace Lightwood.”

“Oh, hello,” she returned as he kissed her hand. “And I know who you are.”

“Well, good. We can skip the pleasantries,” he said. He could swear as she turned her head slightly that she rolled her eyes. But he pushed that back; girls never did that to him. They always fawned. He continued with his usual repertoire: Flattery and proposition. “Your work is so exquisite,” he began, trying to sound like he knew what he was talking about even though he didn’t know a damn thing about art.

“Well, thank you,” she said. “What is it that you like about it? I personally don’t really like the expression in this one. I kind of stuck it in here at the last moment, but the tone is all wrong for the rest of the collection.

Shit, she’d called him on it. He had to think of something. “I think it’s great,” he said pitifully. So much for wowing her with his “art knowledge”. He tried a different tactic. “But not so beautiful as you,” he said with his trademark smile.

“Oh, thank you, Mr. Lightwood,” she said. But she didn’t blush like all the other girls usually did. Nor did she giggle. Which struck him as odd, since she seemed like the easily blushing type.

“Jace,” he corrected. “How long do these things usually go on?” he asked.

“Oh I’m not sure. Just until everyone’s had enough champagne and gossip I assume,” she quipped. She still hadn’t let on that she admired him at all, which was also something he’d never encountered. But he pressed on, hoping to hit a homerun before the night was over.

“Well, I was wondering if you’d like to catch a drink with me later. We could talk about your work, and you could school me on some art concepts, since I obviously know very little,” he said, hoping to play to her good side by making her into the authority in the situation.

She finally turned to look fully at him. She didn’t look hopeful or pleased by his request. “You know, I know you’re used to a sort of rapidity of affection in your two-hour movies, Mr. Lightwood, but it doesn’t work in real life. The heartthrob doesn’t always get the girl just on principle,” she said with an upturn of her nose.

“Excuse me?”

“Try being a little more subtle next time, and maybe the next girl will fall for your pearly whites and your lines,” she said, and turned away into the crowd. He stood where he was, completely stunned. He had  _ never _ been turned down. Ever. Not even by the likes of Kim Kardashian or even Paris, and certainly not by such an obscure girl as this Clarissa. He didn’t know what to do.

When he turned around, he noticed Isabelle standing a little ways away, and she was laughing hysterically behind her hand. He gave her the stink eye and walked off to find Alec. This party sucked.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading and commenting!


	6. That Just-Fucked Flush

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ahh...the chapter we've all been waiting for... lol

##  Rocket Man by My Morning Jacket 

They’d asked a dozen times, but he’d stood his ground. He was definitely not up to clubbing tonight. Or any night, for that matter.

“Aw, come on, bro! It’ll be fun. Have a few drinks, meet some chicks, have some fun for once. Quit bein’ such a tight ass.” Jace could always be counted on to be subtle about his prodding in this arena. Everyone knew he was still sore at that artist girl who blew him off a few days ago. Alec still chuckled to himself every time he thought about it.

“You know I hate that shit, Jace. Please, just this once, leave me alone about it?” Alec pleaded without much hope.

“Not a chance,” Jace said, but for the moment he left to finish getting ready.

Isabelle came in Alec’s room next.  _ Will this ever end? _ he thought.

“You don’t have to go if you don’t want to, you know,” she said. Alec was so shocked that he turned to look at her and let his eyes leave the Manchester United game on the television.

“Wow, Izz. I never thought I’d hear that from you. Did you suddenly grow a conscience?” he asked.

“No. I’ve always had that. But seriously, if you hate being around crowds that much, you don’t have to go,” she said, coming to sit beside him on the bed.

“Thanks, Izz. Now convince Jace so he’ll leave me alone.”

“I will. But first, you have to be honest with me about something,” she began.

She said it in such a nonchalant way that he didn’t even think about it. “Sure, whatever,” he said, his eyes straying back to the game.

“Is it the crowd that bothers you, or the fact that Jace expects you to pick up girls?”

“He knows I’m not the ladykiller type. I just don’t know why he pushes it so much. Why not leave me behind and claim them all for himself?” he said, still paying more attention to the game than Isabelle, but feeling apprehension grow in his stomach.

“No, that’s not what I meant.” She paused. “I mean, does it make you uncomfortable to be around  _ girls _ ?” she said, accentuating the last word slightly, but enough to make his attention completely move away from the game. He wheeled around to look at her, an expression of shock and terror on his face. The expression on hers gave the impression that she knew she’d hit the jackpot. But he tried to tell himself that wasn’t true.

“What do you mean, Izzy? I’m comfortable around girls,” he said nervously. She didn’t buy it.

“I’m not talking about  _ me _ ,” she said. “I’m your sister, I don’t count. But I do notice things,” she said gently.

“Oh, really?” he said sarcastically.

“Yeah. Like the fact that you are 23 years old and have never had a serious girlfriend. You don’t even notice girls, even when they fawn over you. Sometimes you go overboard with the manliness, like you’re overcompensating for something. And you hardly ever talk about dating, much less try it. I'm leaving Amy out of this discussion because...well that should be obvious,” she finished with a roll of her eyes, referring to Alec's one debauched foray into the fairer sex.

“Okay, Izzy! You can stop now,” Alec said, irritated and embarrassed. “I haven’t had a serious girlfriend because I’m too busy with soccer. I don’t notice girls and I don’t date because I just don’t have the time or the inclination to deal with them. And I certainly do not overcompensate with manliness. I’m a jock, remember?” he spouted off contradictions to her statements, but he knew they were weak.

“I don’t believe that at all, Alec, and neither do you.”

He turned away from her, not really seeing anything but just wanting to get his face away from her knowing gaze. He always felt like he could tell Izzy anything, but this was almost too far. He’d kept this secret since he was 12. It was a shame to know he’d done a really shitty job at it.

“Alec, look at me. I’m your sister, and I love you. Please tell me the truth?”

He turned to face her again. He was suddenly overcome with the urge to spill it all out, to tell her everything, but he couldn’t find his voice. But, God love her, she knew. He didn’t have to say it. She reached up and brushed away a tear he didn’t know had fallen, and wrapped her arms around him. She held him for a long while, just letting him relax into her.

“God, I thought I was hiding it pretty well. But it turns out I suck anyway,” he said when she let him go.

“Oh, no. You’re really good at hiding it. It’s taken me years to come to this conclusion. But seriously, why do you feel you have to hide from us? From your family? From  _ me _ ?” He could tell she was a little hurt that he’d kept it from her, but he hadn’t thought she’d take it so well.

“I was just afraid you guys wouldn’t, you know, agree with it,” he said lamely.

“Alec, honestly. Do you think we’d just turn off our love for you? Or what?”

“I don’t know,” he said, suddenly questioning his logic in the matter. “But if I told you guys, even if you were okay with it, you’d probably want me to come clean with the rest of the world, and I…I just can’t do that,” he said, shuddering at the thought.

“Alec, I don’t expect you to put your love life on display for the world. That kind of thing is for people like Jace and Jennifer Lopez. I just want you to be honest with your family. We love you, no matter what you tell the paparazzi.”

“I don’t know. I’ve just…gone on for so long keeping this to myself. It’s bizarre that you’ve known all this time. I always wished I could tell you, but I just didn’t know how. I told my car dozens of times, practicing in case I got up the balls to tell you, but I just never did,” he said, chuckling without humor.

“You talk to your car? Alec, that’s weird,” she said, teasing.

“Well, who else am I going to talk to?” he said, getting serious again. “My teammates? Oh, that would go over real well,” he said sarcastically.

“Why not? Don’t they support you?”

“They’re  _ men _ , Izz. And jocks on top of that. Not everyone is as open and accepting as you, you know. And I’m also betting I could lump Jace in with them. Yet another reason why I never told you guys. He’d be completely weirded out by the fact that I don’t like girls. He doesn’t know any other way of life.”

“He’s your brother, Alec. I know you two don’t get along sometimes, but seriously. Do you think he’d hate you or something?” He didn’t answer her, because he didn’t know the answer to that. “I’m appalled at you, Alexander Lightwood. Give us some credit. We’re good people, you know,” she said.

“I know. But think about it. If I’d have come to you when I was 12 and you were 10 and said, ‘I think I like guys and not girls’ what would you have said?”

“Well, okay. Maybe I wouldn’t have known what to say when I was 10, but still. You could have told me later.”

“This is later,” he said.

“But you didn’t tell me. I figured it out,” she returned.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

They sat in silence for a moment. It wasn’t awkward, but it wasn’t comfortable either. Alec was still trying to come to terms with the fact that someone in the world knew his ultimate secret. It made him uneasy, like he didn’t have a hold on his life anymore. But, it also took a little of the weight off his shoulders, knowing that Isabelle was okay with it.

“You know, a million girls and a few guys would envy the shit out of you if they knew,” she said after a moment.

“What do you mean, envy me? For what?”

“You’ve seen David Beckham naked, and you’re someone who would actually appreciate it,” she said.

“I have not!” he exclaimed before he could stop himself. He blushed furiously.

“What do you mean, you haven’t?” she asked, puzzled.

“I’ve never seen him, or any of the other guys…naked,” he said. “Not really.”

“You mean to tell me that you’ve been on that team for two years with a bunch of other sexy ass guys, you shower with them daily, and you’ve  _ never _ even looked? Not even accidentally? How is that even possible?”

“I almost never shower in the locker room. I wait till I get home,” he explained. “It’s just too weird and risky.”

“Wow. I should slap you. You have the golden opportunity that a million girls would kill for and you don’t even take advantage. Shame on you,” she said, smiling and playfully slugging his shoulder. Her teasing made him smile. She had a way of putting him at ease, even in the direst situations.

“I’ll keep that in mind next time,” he said, knowing that she knew he didn’t mean it. He didn’t think he’d ever get over his fear of the locker room.

“Okay. Well, let me ask you one more time, and be honest with me. Do you not want to go tonight because you  _ truly _ don’t want to go? Or because you just don’t want to be pressured into dancing with girls?”

He thought for a moment, and then answered honestly. “I don’t want to dance with girls,” he said. “It’s just not fun and it’s awkward.”

“Well, what if I told you I’d keep Jace off your back and you won’t have to dance with any girls tonight. Would you take off your old man sweater and come out with us?” she asked, batting her eyes comically. He couldn’t help but relent, so he nodded. She squealed with delight. “Okay, one more question and I swear I’ll leave you alone,” she said expectantly.

“What, Izzy?”

“Can I dress you up?”

_ Oh, hell. _

* * *

##  Zombie by Natalia Kills

As usual, Magnus and Camille were seated at their booth in the dark corner, overlooking the crowd. There was an obscene amount of people packed into the tiny lounge, considering it was a Thursday. This was probably the biggest crowd they’d seen yet, not even counting all the paparazzi around either.

“There’s a shit ton of people in here tonight,” Magnus observed aloud.

“I hadn’t noticed,” Camille returned. She was a bit sullen tonight, and that probably had something to do with the fact that she’d seen her latest lover and his 40 something wife earlier that evening. She was still bitter, even though she was the  _ other _ woman and really had no right.

“Sorry, princess. I’ll leave you alone,” he mocked.

“No it’s alright. I’m sorry, I’ll tone down the diva a little. I’m just still pissed about David.”

“It’s okay sweetie,” he said, giving her a peck on her forehead.

“And it’s probably so crowded because word got around that the entire Lightwood triumvirate decided to make an appearance,” she added.

“What?” he asked. “There’s  _ three _ of them?”

“Yeah, dummy. I’m not surprised you forget about the third, though. Sports really isn’t your thing. But damn, he’s got a body on him, I can tell you that,” she said, swooning.

“Huh. You’re right, I wouldn’t know about the jock in the family. Jesus he must feel overpowered by all that pretty in the family,” Magnus joked. He hadn’t the slightest clue there was another Lightwood sibling, or what he looked like or what sport he played. He definitely didn’t keep up with things like that. “But how come you know about him? You don’t speak meathead either. What gives?” he asked.

“Honey, I know hot men. And that boy gives the rest of the team a run for their money. I enjoy the occasional soccer game now and again, for him and a couple others, like Mr. Posh Spice,” she said. Magnus had to admit, Victoria’s husband had a glorious body. But "Victoria's husband" was all Magnus knew him as. The man could have played backgammon for a living for all Magnus knew. Not that backgammon yielded arms like that, but still.

“A footballer, huh? Eh, I don’t know. Can he compete with Blondie Black Belt?” Magnus asked, referring to the movie star in the family.

“Depends on what your taste is, but I would say that’s a big fat yes. He’s got that sweetie sex appeal thing going on,” she said.

“Oh, I see. And where is Mr. Bend it Like Beckham this evening?” he asked, looking to the table where Isabelle was perched with her blonde brother, surrounded by cameras.

Camille looked around, but soon gave up. “Not sure. After those two, there must have not been enough narcissism left for him. Maybe he’s hiding from the photogs?”

“Well, if that’s the case, he sounds boring,” Magnus said, rolling his eyes.

“I thought you said you’d like to be with someone who didn’t hog your spotlight,” Camille reminded him.

“Oh, yes. Well, let me go and pounce on him then. Because we know for a fact he’s gay and all,” Magnus said sarcastically. “He’s probably a juicehead type that gets an instant, shallow hard-on when he lays eyes on girls like, well,  _ you _ ,” he said with a turn of his nose. Camille gave him a playful slap, though she was probably a little wounded at his use of ‘shallow’.

“I will say this: he’s never been photographed with a girl, no matter how many premieres of Jace’s he’s been to. He’s always with his sister, and when she’s got a date, he’s by himself. It’s worth a shot, babycakes,” she said.

“Sure. Whatever you say,” Magnus said, brushing the whole thing off. He was grateful to the jock he’d never seen for apparently drawing the crowd to his place, but it went no further than that. He kept sipping his cocktail.

All of a sudden, he was hit with a tidal wave of pure lust. It was like a dream sequence in a movie, complete with the fans above the dance floor blowing the man’s dark hair back as he approached. Magnus’ gaze caught the most piercing blue eyes he’d ever encountered. They were glorious, set into a pale, angular face, and he wanted to drown in them. His eyes raked up and down the toned body that was generously clad in dark jeans, a studded belt, a black t-shirt and black blazer. His neck was adorned with a silver necklace that was shaped to look like barbed wire. He didn’t exactly exude confidence, but then again, Magnus found his slumped shoulders kind of endearing. He was, without a doubt, the most gorgeous man in the room, and he didn’t even know it.

“Oh, there’s your ‘juicehead’ now,” Camille said. He tore his eyes away from the beautiful man to look at her.

“What?” he stammered.

“That’s Alexander Lightwood. He plays for the LA Galaxy,” she said.

“Who?”

“The guy you were shamelessly oogling just now. The one with the pretty blue eyes and adorable dimples,” she explained.

He looked back at the man, _Alexander_ he thought, who had made his way past them to the bar.  _ That _ was a soccer jock? “Dear  _ God _ , what a luscious piece of ass,” he said aloud.

“Told you, you queen,” Camille said, snickering.

“You’re not telling me he’s actually  _ related _ to those two,” he said, pointing to Isabelle and Jace.

“Of course he is. He looks just like her, doesn’t he?”

“Fuck no. He’s ten times prettier. Oh my god, my hands will touch that ass before the night is over if it  _ kills _ me,” he vowed. “And someday soon, I’ll have the pleasure of writhing and moaning underneath those biceps.”

Camille laughed quietly, not really taking him seriously. She’d better. He meant every word. He was overcome with the desire to be close to this Alexander Lightwood, and he would give in soon enough.

He got up, leaving Camille still chuckling. He made his way to the side of the room that housed the bar, finding the boy standing a few feet away from the rest of the crowd in a dark recess in the wall.

* * *

So he’d let Izzy and Jace drag him here. Now what? There was nothing for him to do but sit there and watch them talk to people. He didn’t really know their friends, so he couldn’t get a word in. They were also constantly surrounded by cameras. That sort of came with the territory, but he’d come here to escape in a way, and he couldn’t stand the constant hovering, like vultures.

He’d decided to excuse himself for a drink. He really wanted to get away from Jace’s prodding to hit the dance floor. He was thankful, at least, every time Isabelle deflected the attention off of him.

He made his way across the room to the bar, asking the pink-haired bartender for a Crown and coke. He needed something a little strong to make it through the night. Once he’d gotten his drink, he retreated to a dark spot to blend in with the surroundings.

“If you keep looking that delicious, I might have to drag you upstairs and take a nibble.” The seductive, low voice had spoken from behind him, right into his ear. He was momentarily stunned, and didn’t move. It took him a minute to process that the words had turned him on slightly, before he came to his senses and whirled around to look at his harasser.

He was about to make a smartass retort when he saw the man who’d spoken in his ear. He was undoubtedly sexy. His tanned skin was flawless, even under the thin layer of makeup he sported. His perfectly shaped eyes were an intoxicating greenish-yellow, and they were rimmed in black kohl, making them look extra enticing. He wore a tight purple tank top that shimmered when the light hit it. His hair was spiked into a fauxhawk. His slim hips were clad in skin-tight black leather. And then Alec noticed his glossy lips. They were full and inviting, and Alec almost lost himself. But he recovered.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” he snapped.

“Well, you  _ do _ look positively edible, and I’m rather hungry at the moment,” the man said, leaning carelessly against the wall beside him. Alec tried to fight down the burgeoning erection in his pants when the man cocked a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. Damn, that was hot. He hadn’t ever been  _ this _ turned on by a guy, hell, by anyone. It was hard to keep his cool.

“Well, you’re out of luck, bro. I don’t swing that way,” he said weakly, but the man had already undoubtedly seen the look on Alec’s face as he appraised him.

“I’ve got 8 inches that says you do,” the man retorted. Alec gulped and his eyes grew wide. He was blushing, but he thanked his lucky stars that it was so dark in the room, so he could retain at least a tiny bit of dignity. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell. I’m assuming you don’t want the lenses to know?” he asked, gesturing with his eyes to the paparazzi scattered throughout the club. “I’m sure it can’t be easy for a sports star like yourself, but I can promise you I’ll make it worth your while,” he said, reaching up to run a finger down the side of Alec’s torso.

Alec made the mistake of letting his eyes slip shut and emitting a soft sigh at the feeling. He could practically hear the man smile.

“What exactly are you proposing?” he asked in a shaky voice, trying to stall and think of a getaway. But did he really  _ want _ to get away from this tall, dark, and handsome stranger?

“Well, like I said, we could go upstairs and have a little fun. But if you’re afraid someone will notice your absence or hear us having fun, I could just kick everyone out and we could have the place to ourselves,” he finished with another raise of his eyebrow. Jesus, the things that eyebrow did to Alec’s crotch were killing him.

“I don’t think the owner would like that too much,” Alec persisted.

“Oh, I don’t think he would mind. Considering the owner is the one who’d be here with you, having the time of our lives,” the man said. Well, shit. He was cornered, and with the  _ owner _ of the place for crying out loud. But it made a lot of sense, in the back of Alec’s mind. As he looked the man up and down again, he noticed he sort of matched the place. Dark and mysterious, but glitzy and glamorous at the same time. He sparkled like the dance floor.

“I still don’t think it’s a good idea,” he said. He was losing steam, but he was also still terrified that some photographer would catch them in this dark corner, snap a shot, and get the headline  _ right _ for a change. Alec shivered in fear at the possibility.

The man could tell he was in a losing battle. “Fine. But if you ever change your mind…” he trailed off, and Alec felt fingertips brush against his ass through his jeans. He jumped slightly, but settled when the man pulled his hand back and had Alec’s phone in his palm. He was pressing buttons rapidly, finishing in a few seconds and handing the phone back to Alec. “…you know where to find me.” He swept away, making his way across the room to sit in a corner booth with a voluptuous blonde.

Alec didn’t understand. If the man was gay, why was he here and sitting in a dark corner with a silicone stuffed Playmate? He shook his head to clear it, and started back towards his sister and brother.

“Are you okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Isabelle observed when he reached their VIP table.

“Yeah, the naked ghost of Marilyn Monroe. Did you get head in the corner or something? You’ve got that just-fucked flush on your face,” Jace said, as usual devoid of any tact. This only made Alec blush harder.

“Oh shut up Jace. Not everyone is as shallow as you. You know, one of these days a camera’s going to catch you with your pants down behind the bar. What are you going to tell the producers, then?” Isabelle retorted. Jace didn’t answer her; he just rolled his eyes and went back to admiring the girls around the room. She turned to Alec and whispered, “So? What’s up with you?”

“I got ambushed, I guess you could say,” he said, looking down.

“Did you like it? ‘Cause Jace is right, you look a little hot and bothered,” she said, smirking. He blushed even more, because it was true. He didn’t answer her, just gestured with his eyes to the corner where the man and the blonde were seated, occasionally flashing glances in their direction. “ _ Him _ ? The owner? Damn, Alec. He’s a piece of sexy, that one,” she gushed. “I’d love to run my fingers through that hair.”

“Okay, you don’t have to elaborate, Izz, I know he’s...hot,” Alec murmured, feeling a little thrill down his spine at talking so openly about this with her. “But he’s also persistent. And graphic.” He was a little apprehensive, but his siblings were right. The man’s words and actions and look had definitely lit his fire. He went back to nervously sipping his drink, unable to banish thoughts of the sexy whisper from his mind.

* * *

“So? Is he walking the straight and narrow?” Camille asked when Magnus returned to their booth, after working the crowd for a few more minutes.

“Definitely not. But that  _ is _ the general consensus of the public, I gather, and he seems to want to keep it that way,” he said.

“Oh, a closeted jock. Never heard that one before,” Camille retorted with endless sarcasm. “So I’m guessing you’re moving on?”

“Not so much,” he said. She gave him a surprised look. He expected it, since his normal modus operandi was to forget those who turned him down once. He figured it was their loss. But this one was different. It had started out as shallow, surface lust, but as they’d had their short, quiet little conversation, it had grown to something else. He wanted to  _ know _ Alexander Lightwood. He wanted to get to know the man underneath those long dark lashes and emotional blue eyes. Considering his reaction, he gave the boy 24 hours to either call or come back to the club. He was nothing if not confident. He spent the rest of the night admiring his new conquest from afar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your comments! They are giving me such life. I would like to reply to all of them, but I'm feeling kind of weird having my comments up the count on my own fic, if that makes sense. But I love you all for commenting such nice things and constantly refresh my email to see them, so thank you :)


	7. Patiently Waiting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi all! This is a short one, so chapter 8 is coming right after :) ps. signifiers. signifiers as far as the eye can see. Current me apologizes for past me.

##  All Around Me by Flyleaf 

He’d taken out his phone a hundred times, pressed contacts, scrolled down to the name, even opened up a blank text, but then he always chickened out. What was he supposed to say, anyway? ‘Hey, you’re really hot, and I like it when you whisper in my ear. Can we do that again, soon?’ All completely true words, but Alec would  _ never _ actually text them to the guy.

He had a weird name, too. Magnus Bane. At first he didn’t think it was real, just a random name the guy had filed himself under in Alec’s phone. But then, earlier that day, Izzy had asked him if he’d talked to ‘Magnus’. He asked her if that was his real name, and she said as far as she knew, it was. It didn’t even help to deter Alec. It made the man all the more intriguing. He found himself wanting to know everything about the mysterious club owner, but he had no clue how to go about it.

It wasn’t like he could call him up and suggest they go out somewhere. Magnus would probably love that, but Alec couldn’t risk it. The man was obviously out and proud, but Alec shuddered at the thought of the likes of E! News finding out the  _ other _ heartthrob of the LA Galaxy was actually gay. It would be a nightmare; it would be everywhere. He wouldn’t be able to face his teammates again. They’d all give him dirty looks in the locker room, give him hell on the field; no, he couldn’t risk that. So a public meeting was out of the question.

So what did that leave? Inviting himself over to Magnus’ house? He didn’t even know where he lived. They certainly couldn’t rendezvous at the Lightwood house; what in God’s name would Alec tell the rest of them? He wasn’t exactly the age where he could invite someone over, go in his room, and claim they were just playing video games or something. Not anyone as sexy as Magnus, at least.

He hadn’t yet thought of a solution when Isabelle strolled in through his cracked open door to find him lying in bed, staring up at his phone.

“Are you going to call him?” she asked absently, like it was no big deal.

“I don’t know, Izz, what would I say?” he asked.

“’Hello’ usually works pretty well,” she quipped.

“You know what I mean, Izzy. What comes after ‘hello’? It’s not like I could meet him at Starbucks or something. New York is just like LA—there are cameras everywhere you turn. You know I can’t do that, Izz,” he said, his voice getting a little frantic at the end.

“No one’s asking you to put on your own pride parade, Alec, geez,” she retorted. “But you do deserve to be happy in life. And if that road begins with Magnus Bane, so be it.”

“You act like it was love at first sight or something. He ambushed me in a dark corner. That’s got the makings of stalking,” he said.

“Oh, shut up. You’re just nervous because you’ve never had a guy make a serious pass at you before,” Isabelle said, examining her perfect manicure.

“I have, too,” Alec said, before he realized what he was saying.

Isabelle abandoned her nails. “What? You’ve been hit on by a guy and you never even thought to say yes? Jesus Alec. You’re worse than I thought. We’re going to have to have an intervention with you,” she said with a determined look. Alec was turning a little greenish.

“Well, it’s not like I’m an expert at dating  _ dudes _ , Izz. I mean, even though I’m not attracted to girls, I know the general rules: take them out to dinner, buy them a stuffed animal, cuddle with them, yada yada. But with a guy, I wouldn’t know where to start.”

“First of all, not  _ all  _ girls are into cuddling.” She shuddered slightly. “Second of all, you  _ are _ a guy. Think of what  _ you _ would like to do, and go from there.”

“Well, if it were me, I’d love to go to a soccer game, of course. Or maybe running in the park, or a good game of one-on-one b-ball in the backyard,” he said.

She looked at him grimly. “Honestly, I’ve never talked to the guy myself, but do you think Magnus Bane looks the type to want to get all sweaty in the park with you?” She paused. “Wait, don’t answer that.” He was laughing softly. “But you know what I mean, Alec. Think of things you could do together.”

“Well, I like action movies,” he said.

“There’s a start,” she said. “Go to the movies. Just not to one of Jace’s. That would be awkward,” she said. He nodded in agreement. Magnus would end up drooling over Jace, probably. He shuddered.

“But Izz, I’m not sure I could do the whole public thing. In fact, I know I can’t. It’s just too…I don’t know…exposed for me,” he said lamely.

“I get it. But seriously, how do you expect to have a normal relationship anytime in the future if you don’t give it a try now? And really, you don’t have to make it a  _ date _ ; just go as friends. Two guys going to the movies as friends isn’t a tabloid headline. You and Jace used to do it all the time before you left. What harm could there be?”

He had to concede that she was right. No one could construe the outing in such a way that he couldn’t just deny it and say Magnus was just a friend. No harm done. So what was the problem?

“Okay. I’ll try it. But I’m running at the first sign of the parade,” he said.

“Fine by me. PDA, gay or not, is always better left behind closed doors. I think it leaves a lot more to the imagination when your makeouts aren’t blasted on YouTube,” Isabelle agreed.

“Someone should really tell Jace that,” Alec muttered.

“Oh, I don’t think that really applies to him. Plus, he’s helped that guy who videoed him and Vanessa Hudgins get over a million subscribers. He’d just tell you he did a good deed.” Alec laughed, and agreed it was probably true.

When she left the room with an encouraging smile, he found himself getting nervous again. But he just repeated the conversation over in his head. Yes, he did deserve to be happy. And no one was going to do it for him; he was going to have to live his own life. He would just have to be extra careful that the world didn’t find out.

**Alec** : hey

**Magnus** : hey there, gorgeous

**Alec** : this is Alexander Lightwood, btw

**Magnus** : I know. I saw the LA area code. I knew you’d use my number sooner or later

**Alec** : So…

**Magnus** : So…how’s ur day going?

**Alec** : it’s alright I guess.

**Magnus** : that sounds depressing. You should get out more.

**Alec** : I’m not really sure how to do this

**Magnus** : what’s that?

**Alec** :…you know…date. A guy I mean.

**Magnus** : are we dating? Jesus baby you move fast ;)

Alec thought he might die. He looked back at what he’d said, and his face turned the color of fresh watermelon. He’d meant it completely innocently, but he’d already blown it, and Magnus was making fun of him. His phone buzzed again a few minutes later.

**Magnus** : I was kidding, you know

**Alec** : sorry, but I was telling the truth

**Magnus** : oh, I never doubted you. It’s endearingly obvious that you’re inexperienced with wooing.

**Alec** : with…what?

**Magnus** : nevermind. But I WAS wondering when you were going to ask me out, or if you were just toying with me

**Alec** : I wouldn’t do that

**Magnus** : that’s sweet of you

**Alec** : I was wondering…if you would like to…I don’t know. Do something?

**Magnus** : sounds intriguing. Like what?

**Alec** : movie?

**Magnus** : as long as it doesn’t involve your brother

**Alec** : ?

**Alec** : Oh. No, we don’t have to see his.

**Magnus** : you know what? I’ve got a better idea

**Alec** : ?

**Magnus** : I’m assuming you are still hiding behind closet doors?

That hurt a little, but he had to admit it was true. He sighed and answered.

**Alec** : yeah. sorry.

**Magnus** : don’t be sorry, you have to move at your own speed. but aren’t you afraid someone will see us and snap a pic?

**Alec** : we could just go as friends

**Magnus** : that’s not very fair to me

**Alec** : well, what’s your idea?

**Magnus** : you could come over here

**Alec** : you mean…to your house?

**Magnus** : well, condo is the more appropriate term

Alec thought about this for a while. It seemed like a good idea, but then he thought about being alone with this man in his house for an undisclosed amount of time. The idea both terrified him and turned him on.

**Magnus** : I promise I won’t bite. I just figured you’d want a little more privacy. We don’t even have to touch. We can just talk

**Alec** : where do you live?

**Magnus** : Brooklyn

**Alec** : I guess that sounds ok.

Magnus texted him his full address. While Alec was writing it down on a piece of paper, he received one last message.

**Magnus** : patiently waiting…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so so much for all your comments. You guys are wonderful.


	8. Hooked

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One thing I definitely remember is this was one of my absolute favorite chapters to write. Twenty questions!

##  Oh by Ciara

He’d taken a cab to Brooklyn, not risking Hodge asking questions about his destination. They didn’t really know anyone in Brooklyn, so he’d have a tough time explaining it without blushing up a storm and talking himself into an uncomfortable corner.

When they pulled up in front of the correct address, Alec was pleasantly surprised. As a rich boy raised in Manhattan, he’d come to have a certain picture of Brooklyn in his mind, and it wasn’t all that impressive. But Magnus’ building was very nice looking from the outside. It actually reminded him of his building in LA; not too big, but big enough to offer comfortable living space. He could picture himself living here. Just after that last thought, his mental train screeched to a halt. That was a little too much, he told himself.

Blushing, without the driver having a clue as to why, he handed the man a folded pile of bills and got out. He approached the steps as the yellow car sped away. There were about 10 names on the list of buzzers; he found the one marked ‘Bane’ and pressed it.

“Yes?” came that familiar silky voice he remembered from the club.

“Um, it’s me. Alexander Lightwood,” he said softly, his head turning every which way constantly to make sure he wasn’t followed by any curious photographers. They usually only stuck like glue to Jace and Izzy, but he could never be too careful.

“Come on up, babe,” Magnus answered as the door clicked open.

Alec blushed furiously again at the endearment; looking both ways one more time, he slipped stealthily inside.

Magnus lived in the penthouse, apparently. Alec had assumed he had money, what with owning a club and all, but he didn’t think it was that much, since he only owned  _ one _ . Most people who got into that kind of business and were successful usually had two or three. But this Magnus Bane had surprises around every corner so far, so Alec didn’t dwell on the details.

When the elevator deposited him on the top floor, he stepped out into a room that hit him first with its stark whiteness. It took his eyes a moment to adjust from the dark green of the elevator. He found it hard to believe that the man he knew could live in such bland surroundings. He’d been picturing Magnus’ abode in his mind on the way over, and it always had some kind of rainbow wall or something somewhere. But then, as he looked around the room, he started to notice little pieces of Magnus.

The walls were a pure white, and made of a very glossy lacquer that reflected the light from the floor to ceiling windows, except for the far wall, which was exposed gray brick. But the walls were the only white in the entire room. The furnishings were vivid pops of color. A pair of electric blue armchairs sat with their backs to him, facing a clear glass coffee table with multicolored glossy, glittering legs. On the other side of that was something Alec immediately associated with Magnus: an oversized, furry, hot pink couch. The thing was massive, and looked very comfy. He imagined sinking into the fluffy cushions.

The floors were a dark mahogany, and gleamed with fresh varnish. There was a dining table made of what looked like thick black plastic, and it had very modern curves in it.

On the walls, however, were artifacts that looked as old as time. There were French original oil paintings (Alec knew this from his mother’s obsession with expensive art), and along one wall a massive bookcase housed volume upon volume, each looking as if it had come from a different century. There were also books of sheet music that looked like they came from the time of Mozart. The meshing of ancient and modern throughout the room made it very interesting, and almost ultimately reminded him of Magnus. Alec was so in awe with his surroundings, he didn’t notice the other man enter the room.

“That’s my favorite artifact in the entire place,” he said, coming over to where Alec stood staring at the books.

“Which one?” Alec asked.

“This,” Magnus said, slipping out a tattered volume that was about 2 inches thick and had gold leaf on the edges of its thick pages. “It’s an original printing of Dracula. My mother gave it to me for my tenth birthday. I was a morbid little child,” he said, laughing to himself.

“That’s amazing, Magnus,” Alec said, admiring the book. “Dracula is actually my second favorite novel of all time.”

“Is that so?” Magnus said with a smile. He turned around and went to sit on the huge couch, beckoning Alec to follow, which he did, having a seat across from him; the couch was big enough so that they could both sit and face each other, and still be about 4 feet away from each other. “So, what do we do now?” he asked with a smile.

“Well, I expected you to know.  _ You _ invited  _ me _ over,” Alec answered with a blush, feeling cornered.

“Oh I know, I just wanted to see that color in your cheeks again,” he said with a chuckle.

“What do you mean, again?” Alec asked with trepidation.

“Well, you were the color of a ripe Red Delicious last night; even in the dark it was obvious.”

“Hmph,” was Alec’s brilliant remark.

Magnus laughed. “I can’t believe it. I have a big time soccer jock sitting on my couch pouting because I made him blush. That’s one for the memoir, at least.”

“I’ve already made it into your life story? We don’t even know each other,” Alec said.

“And yet, here you are. Well, why don’t we get to know each other, then?” Magnus asked expectantly.

“Sure. What do you want to do? Play twenty questions?” Alec joked.

“Why not?” Magnus was completely serious. Alec had to admit it would be an ice breaker, and the attention would be divided between them, instead of constantly on him, which is what he felt like under Magnus’ scrutinizing gaze.

“Okay. You can go first,” Alec offered.

“Alright. What’s the first?” he asked.

Alec was puzzled. “First what?”

“You said Dracula was your second favorite novel,” he clarified. “What’s the first?”

“Oh, A Tale of Two Cities,” Alec answered honestly.

“Elaborate, please. Why Dickens?” Magnus prodded.

“Oh, no. One at a time,” Alec answered teasingly. Magnus nodded for him to go. “Where are you from? Originally, I mean.”

“Why do you assume I’m from somewhere else?” he asked.

“Because you don’t have a Brooklyn accent,” Alec answered.

“That I do not. I was raised in London,” he said. Alec thought he detected a hint of an English accent. His a’s were longer than normal American English. And he had a way of speaking that was clear and affirmative, but not harsh, like most New Yorkers. His voice had already done a number on Alec, but he tried not to think about it too much. “My turn. Why soccer? Why not movies or modeling?”

“Because I’ve loved playing soccer since I was practically in diapers. Jace and Isabelle…they were never into the whole ‘getting dirty’ thing. Isabelle would always screech about having to go to my games and sit outside in the sun were she might sweat. And Jace, well…he was always too obsessed with his face to jeopardize it by putting it in the line of fire on the field. So, I’m the only one in the family that actually does physical labor, you could say,” he said, chuckling.

“But what about Jace and his action movies? I mean, doesn’t that require a bit of, well,  _ action _ on his part?” Magnus asked.

“Oh, it took a long ass time for him to get up the courage to actually perform his own stunts. He still doesn’t do them all. He’s good at fight scenes and stuff like that, but it’s all choreographed anyway. He only works out to keep the girls around, really.”

“Wow. Secrets of the famous Lightwood family. I’m so privileged,” Magnus said with a grin. Alec smiled at his teasing.

“Okay, my turn again. Why did you leave London?”

“To go to school in Florida,” Magnus answered way too quickly.

“Is that the real reason?” Alec prodded.

“I did actually go to school in Florida, yes. But no, I guess it’s not the real reason. But the real reason will have to wait for another day,” he said, and his expression was so closed off that Alec didn’t poke any further. Magnus’ smile returned after a few seconds, though.

“What’s your number?” Magnus asked.

“Uh, don’t you have it? I texted you…” Alec was puzzled.

“No, I mean your  _ number _ . On your jersey?” he clarified.

“Oh, thirty-two,” he said. “You knew who I was, but you didn’t know my number?” he asked, incredulous. Magnus looked very sheepish. “What is it?”

“I didn’t know who you were until last night. Honestly, I didn’t know there  _ was _ a third Lightwood, let alone that you were famous in your own right. As you can probably tell, I’m not the biggest sports fan,” he said, still looking a tiny bit embarrassed.

“Actually, that’s kind of refreshing,” Alec said. “But let me ask you this: did you approach me after you found out I was a Lightwood, or before?”

“Well, technically after. But that’s not  _ why _ I felt drawn to you,” Magnus said with a glint in his eye.

“Why, then?” Alec asked, genuinely curious.

“Have you  _ looked _ in a mirror, Alexander?” This made Alec blush again, causing Magnus to chuckle under his breath. “Okay, back to the questions. I lost track of who’s turn it is, so go ahead.”

“Alright. Worst fear?” Alec asked.

“Easy. Heights,” Magnus answered.

“Then why the penthouse?” he wondered.

“Because it’s the best,” Magnus said, and laughed out loud. At Alec’s puzzled look, he explained. “Oh, I guess I shouldn’t expect you to have memorized Pretty Woman?” he chuckled again. “What about you? What’s your worst fear?”

“Easy,” Alec parroted. “Dancing.”

“Oh, dear. We’re going to have to do something about that, babe.” Magnus had an evil gleam in his eye, but left it at that. Alec didn’t press the issue further, hoping he’d forget about it by the end of the night.

“Okay, um,” Alec thought hard. He’d been wanting to ask this question of another man in his situation, but he’d never encountered one he vaguely trusted until now. “When did you know? That you were gay, I mean.”

“When I was about 9 I guess. Technically, I consider myself bisexual, since I am attracted to women  _ on occasion _ ,” he said, accentuating the last words with a little apprehension. “However, with women it’s usually just lust. I don’t find myself wanting a relationship with them.”

Alec waited for him to ask the same question, and he braced himself for it. But what came out of Magnus’ mouth was entirely different.

“Are you a virgin?” he asked. Alec’s head popped up and tried to read any condescension in the other man’s expression. He found none. “It’s okay if you are…”

“I’m not,” he said. Wow. He’d said it, out loud to someone. Not even Izzy knew this.

“Can I ask you to elaborate? Because your expression is killing me right now,” Magnus said.

“Okay. If you’re asking if I’ve ever had sex, the answer is yes. If you’re asking if I’ve ever been with a guy, the answer is no.”

“So, you lost it to a girl?”

“Yeah, when I was 16, and it was horrible,” Alec said quietly.

“Is that when you found out you were gay?” Magnus asked.

“No, I guess I figured that out when I was about 12,” he answered. This was hard to talk about. He’d always regretted what he did, which is why he hadn’t told anyone. “I knew this girl in high school that liked me…a lot. She and I used to hang out a lot, and I honestly never noticed that she was so infatuated. I guess I was so wrapped up in my own problems that I didn’t see it. One day we were hanging out at her house, and she kissed me. I was seriously disgusted, not because of her, but because I wasn’t attracted to women at all. But in that moment, I saw a way out,” Alec paused, working to get the rest out. He’d already started, after all, might as well finish. Magnus waited quietly for him to go on.

“I thought I could use her as a cover, you know? I’d heard of guys doing that, and it never turned out well, but I thought, ‘why shouldn’t it work for me?’ Not a soul on earth knew I was gay. I could just keep it to myself forever, I thought. We ended up secretly dating for a couple of weeks, while remaining friends on the outside. One day she came over with a box of condoms. I was terrified for all the wrong reasons, but I went through with it. I broke up with her the next day, because I was so disgusted with myself. To this day I feel like I used her, and she didn’t deserve it one bit.” When he was finished, he was looking down. He felt so ashamed, but it felt good to finally unload that doozy on someone.

Magnus was silent for a long moment, and Alec was afraid he’d alienated him. But when he looked up, Magnus’ face was kind and understanding. “You’ve never told anyone about this?” Alec shook his head. “Well, I’m glad you trusted me with something like that. It’s flattering,” he said.

This was totally not the reaction Alec had expected at all when he pictured telling someone about Amy. But he was pleasantly surprised by Magnus Bane, once again.

“If it’s any consolation, I lost mine to a mediocre looking guy and it sucked royally,” he said with a knowing smile. Alec laughed, and just like that, the mood was light again. It was like being with his sister, if his sister had been an incredibly attractive man. He didn’t notice Magnus’ expression when he turned his face away, but there was something about it that belied his previous statement. Something that he was trying to cover up. It was gone before they glanced at each other again.

“So, why a nightclub?” Alec asked, getting back to their game.

“Oh,  _ please _ don’t call it that. I hate that word. It makes my prestigious establishment sound like an overgrown, permanent rave or something. No. Cherry Bomb is a  _ lounge _ ,” he said. “A place where people can mingle and drink without being forced to listen to crappy techno, or hip hop, and remain perpetually standing on the dance floor while they try to talk. I modeled the place after me, in a way. I like to sit back and enjoy the atmosphere, remaining on the periphery until I feel like immersing myself.”

“I noticed that you do that,” Alec said. “And that when you weren’t harassing me, you are permanently attached to lifesize Barbie,” he said teasingly. “Sorry, but it’s true.”

“Oh, she wouldn’t mind you saying that about her. That’s what she strives for every time she goes under the knife on some poor shmuck’s dime. Camille’s alright, though. She’s my best friend; she helped me design the place, and I cut her in twenty percent. It’s not like I need the money,” he said, and then stopped, looking like he’d said too much.

“But you never answered my question. Why open a place like that? You don’t strike me as a businessman,” Alec explained.

“You’re right, I’m definitely not. Camille convinced me to use my inheritance for something that made me happy. So, I bought and built a place that I could feel completely at home in.”

“You have definitely put your touch on the place. You matched last night,” Alec said with a smirk.

“It’s always planned, darling. Every detail of my appearance is so carefully executed, they come to me for help when there’s a crisis during fashion week,” he joked, although Alec could definitely see that happening. However, Alec did take this opportunity to scrutinize Magnus a little more closely.

He was wearing a black ribbed tank top underneath a blue, gray, and white flannel that he left unbuttoned. He had on faded, tattered jeans, and he was barefoot; his toes were a sparkly purple. His hair was down out of its spikes, falling softly around his face. Every now and then he would flick his head a little to get it out of the way, but it would fall right back down. His hair was absolutely beautiful; after his gorgeous eyes, it was the most intoxicating thing about him. Alec longed to touch it and see if it was as soft as it looked.

He was wearing very minimal makeup, only a thin line of black around his eyes. His lips were bare, and Alec couldn’t help but wonder what they tasted like. He fought down the desire that flared up at the thought. They’d just met, for crying out loud. But he’d only ever kissed a girl, and he’d always wondered what it would be like to kiss a guy.

“Okay, enough with the questions,” Magnus said suddenly, pulling Alec out of his reverie. “Come here,” he said, getting up and offering Alec his hand.

Alec wasn’t sure where this was going, but he got tense all of a sudden.

“Oh, come on. I told you I don’t bite, remember?” Magnus prodded. He dropped his hand and went over to the far wall to a large black cabinet. He opened it up and grabbed a small black remote with a touch screen on it. He pressed a few buttons, and all of a sudden, the entire penthouse was filled with a slow, seductive beat.

“What are you doing, Magnus?” Alec asked, apprehensive.

“Well, since I’ve already got you here, and I’m pretty  _ damn _ sure that you’d never do it in public, I’m going to teach you to dance,” he said, coming over and holding out his hand again.

Alec knew he looked like a deer caught in headlights as he took Magnus’ hand and let him pull him to a standing position.

“Magnus, it’s four in the afternoon. Isn’t this kind of thing reserved for places like Cherry Bomb at, like, night time?” He was hoping to avoid the situation altogether. He didn’t want to embarrass himself beyond all repair.

“Oh, that problem is easily solved,” Magnus returned. He picked up the remote again and touched it multiple times. Alec watched as the floor to ceiling windows on one end of the room were slowly covered by lowering purple velvet curtains, blocking out all the light. The room was pitch black for a moment, then a row of lights recessed into the hardwood floor came on to glow dimly, giving the room the distinct look of Magnus’ beloved lounge. “Now, what other excuses do you have up your sleeve, so I can dispel them?” he asked.

Alec didn’t have any more, to his distress.

“Now, come here. I swear it won’t kill you,” Magnus said, beckoning Alec to a clear area of floor space, the sexy beat still thumping in the background. Alec walked over to him with trepidation, but determined to stand his ground. He wasn’t a wuss, and he’d prove it. “Wait, hold on a second.”

Magnus reached his hands up and peeled back the flannel he was wearing, slipping it down and off his arms, throwing it onto the couch. His tan, immaculate arms took on a sensual tone in the low light of the room. Alec let those arms reach up to him and push his jacket off his shoulders, throwing it over to join Magnus’ shirt. All of a sudden, he was very thankful for the article being gone. He was burning up.

“Okay, now give me your hand,” Magnus said. Alec complied. Magnus placed Alec’s right hand on his hip, where his tattered jeans hung low. He did the same with the other one. “Now, just let your hands follow my hips, okay?”

“Okay,” Alec said in a shaky voice. And then Magnus started to move. The sway was so fluid and sensual that Alec was instantly hard. His hands stayed lightly on Magnus’ hips while he moved to the beat, rolling and popping every now and then, only inches between them.

Then, Magnus reached up and rested his arms casually on Alec’s shoulders. His hands curled around to caress the back of Alec’s neck, and Alec felt himself moving closer. Soon enough, their hips were grinding together to the intoxicating beat. Alec hadn’t noticed when he’d started moving along with Magnus, but he honestly didn’t care at the moment. Magnus had worked one leg in between Alec’s, bringing them as close as they could get in their current position. As it was, his thigh was rubbing up against Alec’s painfully hard erection, making him moan quietly. They hadn’t even kissed, and already he was aroused beyond any point he’d ever been with anyone else.

Every now and then, Magnus would change from swaying his hips right and left to rolling the forward into Alec’s crotch. Alec noticed after a while that in their current position, his leg was doing the same to Magnus. He’d never thought dancing could be this…sexually satisfying. They were still fully clothed, which was a miracle.

Magnus’ hands moved up the back of his neck to twine in his hair. Alec let his hands grip Magnus’ hips tighter, one sliding around to rest just above his ass, pressing him into Alec further. Magnus let his lips rest on Alec’s neck, occasionally flicking his tongue out onto the heated skin, making Alec whimper, and his eyes roll back in his head.

It wasn’t a conscious decision, but Alec pulled back, disengaging Magnus from his neck, and looked him in the eye for a split second before slowly moving in. He wet his lips with his tongue, and descended on those full luscious lips he’d been fantasizing about since the night before. It went slow at first, with each simply nipping and suckling on each other’s bottom lips. But soon enough, it turned into a full kiss.

After a few moments of what Alec thought was sheer bliss, Magnus’ tongue darted out to probe the line between Alec’s lips. He sighed, and that tongue slipped inside. Alec’s moan vibrated between them, making the whole experience surreal. They were still vaguely moving to the music, but the sensation of Magnus’ tongue in Alec’s mouth was taking over.

Magnus seemed to pick up on this, because he stopped grinding his hips long enough to begin guiding Alec back to the couch. He backed up until his legs hit, and he sat down, pulling Alec down on top of him without ever breaking the kiss. They lay lengthwise on the furry couch, and Alec noticed why it was so huge. It was long enough to accommodate Magnus’ 6’4” frame comfortably underneath him.

They continued their kiss, Alec grinding his hips into Magnus occasionally, pulling moans and grunts from both of them. When they ran out of air, Alec moved down to suck on the spot just above Magnus’ Adam’s apple. Alec watched with satisfaction as Magnus’ eyes rolled back and he felt the vibration against his lips.

They continued this way for another two hours, only taking small breaks, before their lips and jaws started aching and Alec had to relent because he knew his family was wondering where he was.

“Oh, don’t go yet,” Magnus whined in a low voice. “We’re just getting started.”

“I have to. I don’t want my parents to send out a search party. They’re insane like that, you know. I’m twenty-three years old and they still hover like I’m in pull-ups or something.” His joking remark was rendered useless by his breathlessness. Magnus didn’t seem to mind, as he was in a similar state.

Once they’d extricated themselves from each other, and had a few more relapses of heated kisses, they said their goodbyes, promising to see each other again soon. Neither could stand for it to be very long, though. They were already addicted to each other. Lust tended to do that to both of them.

Magnus reached over the back of the couch and handed Alec his jacket, but Alec waved it away. He picked up Magnus’ shirt and slipped his arms into it. It surrounded him with the smell of Magnus, which was enough to get him off at this point. Magnus smiled and walked him to the elevator. They had one more long kiss and grope before the doors cut them off.

Alec leaned against the wall of the elevator car, ran a finger over his bottom lip, and chuckled to himself. He was hooked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, Alec shares some super personal shit astoundingly quickly. He met this man last night! Twenty-two year old me was obviously too thirsty for my own good, lol. As always, your comments give me life. :)


	9. Shopping Trips

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi all! Sorry for the long hiatus in posting. I went back to work and it has been.........stressful. But I'll be posting a bunch today to make up for it :) Thank you all for still loving this story, and your comments are giving me the strength to continue it through to the end :)

##  All Apologies by Nirvana

Alec lay in his bed, relishing the rare opportunity to be lazy. This was the first time he’d slept in this late in almost two years. Even on days when he didn’t have 8 a.m. practice, he usually got up and went running or to the gym. But today, he was too conflicted to think about working out.

He thought back on his previous evening in Brooklyn with the flashy lounge owner. He’d never even kissed a guy before, and he’d ended up making out for a good three hours on Magnus’ furry pink couch. And it was  _ very _ nice, making out with those full, luscious lips; he’d enjoyed it immensely, and had to take a long cold shower when he got back to his parents’ house. And he definitely didn’t mind dancing anymore…okay, maybe he wouldn’t ever do it in public, but a little bit in private was definitely not as excruciating as he thought it would have been.

The problem now was: where did they go from here? He knew they weren’t considered a couple, after only a few kisses. (Okay, more than a few, but still.) But he wasn’t sure what they were to each other now. He wanted to see Magnus again, soon, but he wasn’t sure if Magnus would want to see him. After all, he sounded like he’d had a lot more experience in dating, and a lot more confidence. What if this was something he did with multiple people? If Alec called, would he interrupt a similar event?

He was surprised at the small flicker of jealousy that hit him at that idea. But certainly Magnus was allowed to see whoever he wanted, in any capacity he wanted. Alec just wasn’t sure what capacity he considered their relationship to be in. He had enjoyed the night, letting Magnus’ tongue work its undeniable magic in his mouth. But he’d also enjoyed the long talk they’d had prior to the making out. He wanted to know more about Magnus Bane, other than what he looked like naked. Although, that would be nice to know, too…

“You know, the rest of us live in 2010.” Isabelle’s voice coming from the doorway startled him out of his thoughts, and his face turned red.

“What are you talking about?” he said, his voice squeaking a little, which he tried to hide and write off as sleepiness.

“I don’t think there’s anything on your iPod that was released after 1997,” she said, leaning casually against the doorframe.

“So? What’s your point?” he asked.

“My point is that if you listened to something a little more current, you might be inspired to take off that old man sweater of yours and join us in the  _ now _ ,” she said.

“I like it. And Kurt Cobain’s one of the greatest. Much better than that whiney twelve year old piece of shit you listen to,” Alec said.

“Oh, don’t knock the Biebs. We all have our weird little fetishes,” she said with a smirk. “Which reminds me, are you developing one for a certain guy-lined, glam rock club owner?”

“He hates that word, you know,” he said.

“So that  _ was _ where you were! Did you two get to  _ know _ each other?” she said, bobbing her eyebrows up and down.

“Jesus, Izz. I just met the man. I’m not going to hop into bed with him five minutes later,” Alec said. Although, the thought of hopping into bed with Magnus Bane did sound rather appealing. He blushed just thinking about it, though; he wasn’t sure if he’d ever get up the courage to do  _ that _ with a man. At least, not anytime soon.

Isabelle seemed to read his train of thought on his face. “So you  _ are _ thinking about hopping into bed with him, though,” she said, still smirking at him. He turned redder.

“Don’t you have somewhere to be?” he pleaded. “There are better things to do than nag me when I’m trying to enjoy an extra hour or two of sleep.”

“You weren’t sleeping,” she said. “And besides, I’m bored and I’ve missed you and I wanted to go out and do something with you. So get your ass up and get dressed.”

“That sounds vaguely ominous. Before I actually get out of bed, what did you have in mind?”

“Get out of bed and get dressed and I’ll tell you.”

“Fat chance. Now I’m even more curious. And scared.”

“Fine. I wanted to go shopping okay?”

“Oh I get it. You’ve got a gay brother and you couldn’t think of anything that he would like to do more than shopping?” Alec said with a chuckle.

“Quite the contrary. I know for a fact you hate shopping. But that’s precisely the point. Have you  _ looked _ at Magnus Bane? You’re going to need a much better wardrobe if you plan on snagging  _ him _ for any length of time,” she said.

“Honestly, I think he’s quite glad to steal the spotlight from me. Plus, he likes me already, shitty wardrobe and all.”

“No, that’s not entirely true. Remember, the first night he met you,  _ I _ dressed you. And he obviously didn’t approve of the outfit you wore last night because you came home wearing something that looked like it came out of  _ his _ closet,” she quipped with a knowing smile.

“Well, I…I just…” he was slightly embarrassed still, at his bold gesture of taking the keepsake shirt.

“Whatever, Alec. But you’re coming shopping with me so we can vamp up that JCPenney catalog look of yours into something Bane-worthy, ‘kay?” Without waiting for an answer, she flitted out the door, hair billowing out behind her. Alec sighed deeply, but knew it was no use arguing. Plus, he wanted to spend time with his sister.

Five hours and two aching feet later, he conceded that he’d had an okay time. Aside from the constant poking and prodding, and Isabelle throwing things at him in heaps and then shoving him into fitting rooms, he’d had a pretty fun day with his sister.

They’d had lunch at the St. Regis, walked through Central Park and yes, Alec had even bought a few things at the stores she dragged him through. He’d managed to hold on to his carefree style, but took her advice on some basic wardrobe do’s and don’ts. All in all, he felt a little better about himself, and acknowledged that Magnus would probably be impressed the next time they saw each other.

But that thought had Alec’s mind in a state again. He really did like Magnus, and wanted to spend more time with him, but he was also still terrified that the rest of the world might find out. How long could Magnus put up with being his dirty little secret? He didn’t have an answer for that. Coming out officially was out of the question. He’d take that secret to the grave if he had to. But he also wanted to enjoy having a relationship, just like everyone else. Even after the fun day he’d had, he was now depressed again.

##  Fembot by Robyn

It had been a few days since “the night” as Magnus liked to call it. They’d talked nearly everyday, either on the phone or by text, but hadn’t seen each other. Magnus got that funny feeling in his gut every time his phone lit up with that LA area code. Alexander Lightwood, adorably sexy jock, had taken over more than 60 percent of his mental capacity. The other 40 was left for Cherry Bomb, clothes, and Camille, each of which were used to at least 30 percent of their own.

“Earth to Magnus!” Camille was waving her hand in front of his face, her double shot macchiato perched securely in the other.

“Sorry, sweetie. My thoughts are all aflutter at the moment,” he said, sipping his own mocha with a smile, still thinking about those hard abs pressed against him from above.

“I can see that. Quit fantasizing about Alexander Lightwood’s possible oral skills and tell me if this would make me look too skinny.” She was holding up a silk chiffon Dior top.

“I wasn’t really thinking about his oral skills, but thanks for putting that into my head. Now I’ll really be distracted. And yes, it would make your boobs look way too enormous, and thus your waist would look too skinny,” he said, plucking the hanger from her grasp and putting it back on the rack. “Now this,” he said, holding up a black jersey-knit top with rhinestones sewn into the hem and a sweetheart neckline. “This will downplay the assets and bring out your face, and the bling on the bottom will accentuate those thighs you’ve been working so hard on.”

She sighed. “Yeah, I guess you’re right,” she said, taking the top and flinging it over her arm, where it joined five or six others. “Okay, I’m bored with this one. And I’m starving. Let’s hit up Convivio. I’m in dire need of processed carbs,” she said.

They paid while the valet brought Magnus’ precious purple Porsche around, and they climbed in. As soon as the engine turned on, Magnus’ hands went to the radio, turning up and blasting Robyn, his latest obsession. Camille sang along at the top of her lungs, and they sped off toward their favorite Italian restaurant in Manhattan.

“So what’s the deal with him, really?” Camille asked between bites of her lasagna.

“He’s utterly adorable, almost too much to handle. And by the way, I love soccer,” he said.

“Oh? And what brought this change of heart? Did he make you sit there and watch hours of boys running back and forth, sweaty and grunting, kicking a black and white piece of leather around?”

“Contrary, my love. I love soccer, because any sport that encourages abs like that is a fucking Godsend in my book,” he said, a dreamy look on his face as he pictured them again.

“Did he give up the goods on the first date?” she asked, incredulous.

“Oh, no honey. I didn’t even get a full look at them. But I  _ did _ have them pressed on top of me for an obscene amount of time. I haven’t made out like that in ages,” he said.

“I’ll say. Making out usually lasts about ten minutes before you skip to the main event. How ever did you restrain yourself?” she asked with a smirk.

“It wasn’t easy. His tongue  _ definitely  _ knows what it’s doing. I can only hope to further prove that point soon,” Magnus mused, closing his eyes and picturing Alexander Lightwood working that wonderful tongue over his nether regions. He suppressed a swoon. “But I won’t rush him.”

“Damn. You’ve turned into an outright chastity advocate, Magnus. I’m shocked. Usually you’d give him a couple hours and if he didn’t open up, you’d kick him to the curb.”

“Well, I’ve turned over a new leaf for this one. He’s too delicious to rush it.”

“But he’s still in the closet, isn’t he? I mean, I know he hasn’t told the rest of the world, but what about even his family. They don’t act like they know.”

“I don’t know, Camille. I don’t know everything about him after one night, you know.”

“Well, what  _ do _ you know about him?” she asked

“He doesn’t hate dancing anymore,” he said with a wicked smile, and sipped his red wine.


	10. Running From Tomorrow

##  Please Don’t Go by Mike Posner 

He’d eventually gotten up the courage to ask to see Magnus again, and now he was on his way to Brooklyn for the second time. This time, there was a lot more anticipation and just a little nervousness.

He pressed the button next to Magnus’ name, waiting for that already familiarly enticing voice to summon him up. When it came and the door clicked open, he slid inside, still in the habit of looking around for any curious cameras. He didn’t think he’d ever get over the fear that he’d get caught one day.

The elevator door opened and he made his way into the colorful living room. When he rounded the corner, he was taken aback by what he saw. Magnus was dressed in dark skinny jeans, a button down dress shirt that was some mix of charcoal and dark blue, with silvery threads running through it here and there, catching the waning light from the windows. He had on a studded rhinestone belt, and he was barefoot again.

But his wardrobe wasn’t what caught Alec’s eye. He was draped over the couch in a very casual way, one knee bent and one arm across the low back of the couch. But the way he was situated just looked so sexy and inviting, Alec had to fight to keep himself from running over and lowering himself on top of Magnus.

As he was having this little inner battle, Magnus noticed him standing across the room.

“How many times do I have to remind you that I don’t bite?” he said playfully.

“Sorry,” Alec said nervously, and made his way over to the furry pink couch. Magnus moved to sit up to make room.

“No, stay like that,” Alec said. Magnus gave him a puzzled look, but Alec waved it off. He gently lifted Magnus’ stretched out leg and sat down, pulling it and the other one into his lap. “What are you watching?” he said as he looked up at the TV and saw a few familiar faces. “Are you seriously watching Dawson’s Creek?” he chuckled, stealing a glance over at Magnus.

Magnus, however, was riveted on him. He kept looking back and forth from Alec’s face to his hands, which were resting over Magnus’ thighs.

“You’re not going to give me a foot massage, are you?” he asked.

“Um…no?” Alec said, cheeks flaring.

“Good. I was worried I was about to have to pinch myself and get out of a fantasy. But you’re really here?”

“As far as I know,” Alec said. He bit his lip nervously.

“God, don’t do that,” Magnus said, his eyes slipping closed.

“What?” Alec asked, afraid he’d pissed the man off somehow.

“Nibble on your lower lip,” he said as he opened his eyes again. “Makes me want to nibble on it too.” To accentuate his words, his tongue slid out to wet his lips. Alec was at a loss for words, but couldn’t help the habit and he took his lower lip between his teeth again.

Magnus gave a sweet half-smile, and beckoned Alec closer with a curl of his index finger. Alec leaned down and Magnus met him halfway, their lips connecting gently. They kissed a few times, without tongue, just sweetly. When Magnus lowered himself back down, his eyes were closed and he had a blissful smile on his face.

“I could get used to that,” he said, and sighed. He opened his eyes, and Alec was again mesmerized by their glow. They were so vivid and expressive, and Alec wanted to drown in them. Little did he know that Magnus was thinking the same thing. As it was, Magnus flicked his head a little, beckoning Alec once more. This time, he swung one leg behind Alec, putting him in between his legs, and Alec leaned down to place his head on Magnus’ chest. Magnus’ hand came up to slide through Alec’s shaggy locks, and Alec was in heaven.

“And yes, I am watching Dawson’s creek. It’s my guilty pleasure,” Magnus said.

“Yeah, I guess I always kind of had a crush on Dawson. He’s dumb and oblivious most of the time, but I was always rooting for him,” Alec returned.

“Oh, please dearie,” Magnus said, sounding wounded.

“What?”

“I, personally, have been a Pacey person ever since he was on ice skates in Minnesota.” At Alec’s very puzzled look, he raised his eyebrows. “You’re telling me that you’re a sports guy and I’m a veritable queen, and  _ I’ve _ seen The Mighty Ducks and you’ve never even  _ heard _ of it?” He was downright incredulous.

“Guess so,” Alec said, looking sheepish.

“Wow. I can’t believe I know about a sports movie and Alexander Lightwood doesn’t. This is a day to document in history,” he said with an official air.

“You just get deeper and deeper,” Alec said with a smirk that Magnus couldn’t see.

“Watch what you say around people with exceptionally dirty minds. It might get you in trouble,” Magnus said, his quiet laughter rumbling under Alec’s ear.

“Oh, I don’t think it would be that bad,” Alec said. He was shocked at the boldness he’d adopted in such a short time. He would have never been this snippy and playful before he’d met Magnus. But some of the man’s carefree, sexy attitude was rubbing off on him.

“Well, that’s a good sign,” Magnus said.

Alec leaned up to look at him, and was met with a close up of those delicious full lips. Without even thinking about it, he scooted up and placed his mouth over them. Magnus let out a moan so soft Alec thought he might have imagined it. He pulled Magnus’ lower lip into his mouth, sucking it gently. This time, the moan was louder.

Magnus pushed on him gently, and Alec jumped back, afraid. But Magnus followed him up, moving Alec so that he was seated properly. Then, Magnus climbed on top, straddling his hips. Alec could feel his already growing erection pressing against his own.

Magnus was running his hands over Alec’s chest and moaning against his lips. The vibration was sending chills down Alec’s spine. Alec’s hands worked their way up Magnus’ back, over his shoulders, and into his silky hair. It was like heaven to run his fingers through that hair; he wished he could do it any time he wanted.

Magnus started to grind against him subtly, like he didn’t even notice he was doing it. That movement, coupled with Magnus’ tongue running along his top teeth and occasionally across the roof of his mouth, had Alec hard as a rock. Without thinking, his hands dropped to the collar of Magnus’ shirt. A little lower, and he was at the first button. He popped it from its tiny hole. Then he moved to the next one, popping it out also. He moved halfway down, unbuttoning until he could slide his hands inside and run them over Magnus’ chest.

He could feel the smooth skin laying over lean muscle. Magnus was by no means muscular, but he did have a little bit of tone to him. He was downright delicate next to Alec, though. But Alec liked it that way.

“If you keep going, I can’t promise you that you’ll retain your virtue,” Magnus said huskily against his lips.

“What do you mean? I’ve already lost my—“

“I don’t count that. Besides, if your heart wasn’t really in it, it’s not like it stands to count anyway.” He paused to kiss Alec again. “But seriously, if you don’t stop, I  _ will _ pop your gay cherry right here and now,” he said breathlessly.

Alec sucked in a breath, shocked. Not at what the other man had said, but at the sheer force of desire it ignited within him. He  _ wanted _ it to happen. But they barely knew each other! No, it had to wait. So, with some difficulty, he removed his hands from the inside of Magnus’ shirt and let him climb off of him.

“Wow. That’s got to be the first time I’ve had to stop things myself. I’m usually the one getting chastised about rushing things,” he said.

“Sorry,” Alec said shamefully. “I just got…caught up and…”

“No, no, darling. It’s fine. I just figured you wouldn’t want to jump right into that kind of thing, especially when it’s your first time, figuratively speaking.

Alec was afraid it would be awkward after the halt, but it was quite the opposite. Magnus turned off the television and hit the touch screen remote, turning on the stereo. An easy going, catchy song erupted from the speakers. Magnus turned it down to a level that allowed for easy conversation.

“So, how’ve you been? I feel like I haven’t seen you in ages,” Magnus began.

“I know. I’ve just been trying to spend time with my family before I have to head back to LA,” he said.

“When do you leave?” Magnus asked. Alec thought he detected a hint of sadness in his question, like it was soon.

“Three weeks,” Alec answered.

“That’s not so bad I guess. You’ve got a while.”

“Yeah.”

They slipped into comfortable silence, just enjoying each other’s company. They were back to their original position, Alec sitting and Magnus lying with his feet in Alec’s lap. After a while, Magnus started to sing along absently, very softly, with the song coming from the stereo. He started out humming, then moved to singing the actual words. It was so soft Alec barely heard. But he heard enough to be pleasantly surprised.

“You have a nice voice,” he said.

Magnus stopped singing immediately, and got a look on his face Alec couldn’t explain. It was like he’d just discovered he was doing something very prohibited, and he was really regretting it.

“What is it? I didn’t want you to stop,” Alec said, worried.

“It’s nothing,” Magnus said, closing off.

Alec was afraid to ask him to elaborate, but after a moment, he couldn’t help it.

“You know you can tell me, right? I mean, I told you about Amy,” Alec said.

“True. And I appreciate you trusting me enough to share it with me.”

“So, don’t you trust me?” Alec asked.

Magnus sat in silence for a few moments, and seemed to be gathering his thoughts. Alec let him, waiting in silence for the other man to continue.

“My mother always told me I should sing for a living. She always said I had the voice of an angel and not to let it waste away unused. Funny, that’s exactly what I’m doing.”

“I don’t understand,” Alec said.

“I just don’t think I could bring myself to do it, considering it was her dream for me, and she wouldn’t be around to see it come true.” His tone was bitter. Alec waited for him to continue. “My mother was murdered 3 years ago, when I was 21.”

Alec was floored. He hadn’t seen that coming. “Did they catch the murderer?” he asked.

“Oh, sure. It was my father.”

Again, Alec was at a complete loss for words. He had no idea such a tragedy had taken place in Magnus’ life, and so recently. His carefree attitude and sarcasm hid it well.

“I had to testify against him. They called me back to London from school in Florida, and they had me sit in court for three weeks. When it was over, I really had no place to go. I’d dropped out of school and had no real money.” He paused, looking down and refusing to meet Alec’s eyes.

“So, how’d you get here?” he asked.

“Well, that’s sort of a funny story. Remember you asked me why I had a lounge if I didn’t plan on opening two or three more?” Alec nodded. “Well, I happened to come into some money, and it seemed like the logical use for it. Well, Camille may have helped with the logic.”

Alec waited for him to elaborate. “My mother had her secrets, some of which I was informed of after her death and the trial. I always knew that my mother was from an old family, but she never really talked about it since she didn’t have much contact with them after she’d married my father, for obvious reasons I guess. Eventually I found out that she’d been trying to keep her heritage from him. She was a Vanderbilt, and she had left me a…substantial amount of money in her will. So, I packed up and headed to the city that never sleeps.

“I met Camille at some party and we hit it off pretty fast. In a lot of ways we’re the same person, so I suppose that was natural. I was asking her what I should do with the money, since I’d never actually spend that much in my lifetime. She suggested opening a place that I could take pride in and that I would enjoy going to. We both love purple and thus, Cherry Bomb was born.”

“Wow. I’m sad that all that happened to you, but if it’s any consolation, you seem to be doing pretty well despite it all,” Alec said, looking into his green-yellow eyes.

“Thanks. I happen to agree with you. I always say to myself, ‘why dwell?’ It’s the past, and it’s gone. I’m here to live in the  _ now _ ,” he said, smiling.

“Not to burst your bubble here, but if you’re okay with everything, why ban yourself from singing?”

“I knew you were going to ask me that,” he sighed. “The answer is, because every time I open my mouth and utter a single note, I think of my mother’s smile. She was practically obsessed with getting me started in the music business. I went to school on a vocal study scholarship,” he said. Alec could see it happening. “I just don’t think I could make it through. I haven’t actually sung an entire song, let alone performed, since she died. Sometimes I’ll catch myself singing without thinking about it, like just now, and then it all comes rushing back.”

“But you’ve got to know it’s what she would want you to do. Remember, you said she told you she didn’t want you to waste your talent? Why not honor her wishes?” Alec asked gently.

“I just…I don’t know. I just can’t. If I attempted to actually perform a song, I’d break down and cry like a baby,” Magnus said. “I think I’ll stick to venues. It’s a fun alternative, don’t you think?”

Alec laughed, but in his head he didn’t let it go. He sort of made it his personal mission to get Magnus Bane back on track. He hadn’t heard a lot of his voice, but what little he heard had mesmerized him. He could only imagine what he would sound like if he really opened up. It was bound to be phenomenal.


	11. Fear of Heights

##  Sun Goes Down by David Jordan

“Hot damn. Look what the cat dragged in,” Camille said, eyeing a spot somewhere by the door.

“Hmm?” Magnus said, not really listening because he was too busy reminiscing about Alec’s hungry hands inside his shirt a week ago.

“Honestly, Magnus. Tame the tumescent head for a second and use the one above your shoulders. Jace Lightwood has graced us with his presence again. God, he makes my nipples so hard they could cut glass,” she gushed.

“Please. The blonde one is definitely overrated,” Magnus said, waving off her infatuation. “I’m partial to the tall, dark, and handsome one with the gorgeous eyes.” He leaned back, letting his head fall back and emitting a dreamy sigh.

“If you say so. I, personally, have made it the first item on my bucket list to bed that luscious piece of ass. It’s just too good to pass up,” she said.

“You and every other bleach blonde in the continental U.S.,” Magnus retorted. “I, on the other hand, prefer the untouched, unspoiled one. He’s so freakishly adorable, it’s a sin.”

“Well, I do believe we are a couple of guerilla stalkers. All we need is to call up Raphael in Queens, since he has it in for Isabelle. We’d single-handedly devour the entire Lightwood trio.” She grinned devilishly.

“Honestly, I think my pretty jock is the only one left to be devoured in that sense. The other two are way too confident for their own good, which usually leads to a couple free rides around the block anyway. Besides, you think Miss Isabelle was able to resist any of that yummy Italian sausage while she was away? I think not,” Magnus said as he sipped his cocktail.

“Oh, hell,” Camille said with a scowl.

“What is it, sweetie? Just come to your senses?” Magnus said with a chuckle.

“So to speak. I just noticed the little ginger rat on his arm,” she said.

“Aww, she’s cute,” Magnus said, looking the short redhead up and down. She had that innocent, unspoiled quality that made her undoubtedly easy pray for someone like Jace. Although, Magnus was pleasantly surprised and amused at her actions as they observed the couple. She allowed him to lead her around, but when they got to the bar and he tried to order for her, she let go of his arm and shoved him behind her. Katinka smiled widely as she took their order. She came back with a small glass that looked like Crown and coke for Jace, and a bottle of Asahi beer for the girl. “Cute and feisty,” he elaborated.

“She’s toast. He’ll run through her like a knife through butter,” Camille said, appeasing herself with the prospect of hope.

“I’m not so sure. He looks a little uncomfortable. I’m sure he’s not used to having his unyielding beauty and authority in a relationship compromised,” Magnus chuckled.

“Whatever. I give it a week,” Camille said, and went back to her Electric Lemonade. “So, how goes it with old blue eyes?”

“It goes wonderful. And slow,” Magnus admitted with a small frown. “I mean, I’m willing to drag out the process for obvious reasons, but my glamorous, leather-clad friend down here usually has other plans. He pitches a fit when he doesn’t get his way fast enough.”

“Sounds like someone I know,” Camille said.

“Oh shut up. You’re just jealous I snagged a cutie and you’re on banishment leave from your latest fete. Don’t worry, sweetie. We’ll find you someone new to torture and drain. It’s what you do best,” he said, brushing her hair back affectionately.

“That’s true,” she conceded. They spent the rest of the night in their usual way, scoping out and gossiping about the crowd. Camille mostly watched and criticized the little redhead on Jace’s arm. Magnus was usually too preoccupied with thoughts of his adorable older brother to care much about her rants.

It was slowly dawning on Magnus that he was in danger of letting this one slip past his carefully constructed barrier of emotion. He mostly kept his conquests behind a wall, refusing to let his feelings overwhelm the physical part of the relationship. They weren’t even technically  _ in _ a relationship, and already he was getting afraid of falling. When he’d told Alexander he had a devastating fear of heights, he wasn’t talking about buildings.

Though, try as he might, he was beginning to realize he was in a losing battle, trying to keep this one completely on a physical level when the boy was smashing walls down around his heart without even knowing it.

##  Even Flow by Pearl Jam

“Dude, has practice taken over your life? You’re so rusty. I’m totally kicking your ass!” Jace taunted as he hit every note in a complicated sequence, causing his points to be triple-multiplied.

“Well, I do have better things to do with my time than perfect my button pushing skills. I definitely can tell what you do in your trailer all day long,” Alec said, blundering over the next sequence.

“I always make time to perfect  _ my _ button pushing skills,” Jace returned with a smile. Then, he started to sing along with the song at the top of his lungs.

“You’re  _ both _ pushing  _ my _ buttons at the moment,” Isabelle said from her perch on the couch, arms crossed over her chest, looking bored out of her skull.

“Aw, Izz. Don’t be all sullen just ‘cause you can’t hang with us,” Jace said, making Alec laugh and mess up again, in turn causing Jace to laugh and taunt him again.

“We’re  _ supposed _ to be having family time,” she said. “We don’t often reside under the same roof for any lengthy period of time anymore.”

“This is family time,” Alec said, his eyes intent on the screen trying to keep up with the scrolling notes.

“No, this is a metaphorical pissing contest. I will never understand this game. If you two spent half as much time actually trying to learn to play a real guitar instead of mashing colored buttons on plastic ones, you’d both be accomplished musicians.”

“But this is so much more fun,” Jace said.

“And your fingers don’t bleed near as much,” Alec chimed in.

“Speak for yourself,” Jace said. “I play hard, bro. My ring finger always gets a blister from the little line on the yellow button.” Alec laughed.

As the song ended, they viewed their scores. Jace, having gotten about twice as many points as Alec, dropped his plastic guitar and did a victory dance around the room while the other two rolled their eyes. Alec went and plopped down in the chair next to Izzy.

They were sitting in their parents’ media room which, truth be told, looked more like an actual movie theater, albeit a ridiculously luxurious one. The seats were chocolate leather, smooth and buttery to the touch. They all reclined and had cupholders in both upholstered arms. Near the front, there were couches on either side of the 60 by 90 inch screen. The seats were set stadium style, with the very back row being accessed by about 10 steps up. They were seated down near the front, in the chairs between the two couches. Jace was still dancing around in the little open space right in front of the screen.

Isabelle was right, though; they hardly ever got to just hang out around the house together anymore. Growing up, they were nearly inseparable, always running around the house and making mischief together. Now, they were always on opposite ends of the world, crossing paths in midair once in a while, but there was little they could do to see each other in that situation. The last two weeks had been the most fun they’d had in years. With two weeks left, they wanted to make the most of it.

“Well, since you’re the pouty one, what did you have in mind?” Jace asked, finally taking a seat on one of the couches.

“I don’t know. Maybe we could go—“

“If you say shopping again, I’m out,” Alec said, holding up his hands.

“You let her con you into dragging you out to Bloomingdale’s? Man, you’re gettin’ soft,” Jace said, throwing a small beaded pillow at Alec’s head. Alec, using his ingrained skills and quick reflexes, head butted it and it fell to the floor.

“Hey, that’s one day you won’t get to spend in  _ my _ fair company. A day you can never get back,” Isabelle said.

“I think I’ll live,” Jace said. “But seriously, what do you guys want to do now?”

“Well, as I was saying before I was so  _ rudely _ interrupted—“ she began.

“Must you channel Michelle Tanner?” Jace said.

“—yet  _ again _ . Anyway, I was going to suggest lunch. I’m in the mood for Delmonico’s. What do you say, boys?”

“Sounds good I guess,” Alec said, his stomach rumbling. Jace nodded, always up for food of any kind, but especially a Delmonico’s steak.

##  Jesse’s Girl by Rick Springfield

As they sipped their wine and Jace raved about how much he’d missed this steak, they fell into the old sibling mood again. They laughed and joked, and teased each other. Jace happened to get the brunt of it, for the most part.

“So, how was your  _ date _ the other night?” Isabelle asked with a smirk.

“It was fine,” Jace said, his expression pouty and closed off. Alec snickered along with Isabelle.

“What did I miss?” Alec asked.

“Oh, Jace pestered that poor artist girl until she agreed to go out with him out of pity,” Isabelle said.

“It was not pity!” Jace said. “She was just testing herself to see if she could resist me.”

“And how did that work out for her?” Alec asked.

“She failed miserably,” Jace said with a self-satisfied smile.

“You mean you actually got her to give up the goods? After your little stunt at her show?” Isabelle asked, incredulous.

“Well, not exactly. But she did give me a good night kiss,” Jace said.

“Ha! That’s all? You’re getting rusty Jace Lightwood, if you can only get a good night kiss from a sweet little artist girl. You’ve slayed the hearts of millions of bunnies who’ve seen way better goods than you. What’s wrong with your game?” Isabelle teased. She shut up after Jace threatened to flick mashed potatoes at her with his spoon. Alec knew he wouldn’t do it, but it was still menacing when he threatened, holding it up, cocked and ready.

Alec reflected back on the conversation with some detached interest. He’d noticed something while they were joking around about Jace’s latest pursuit. Usually, he’d have turned sullen and distant, listening to Jace talk about the girl he planned on landing this week, but he found he wasn’t even bothered. He was even as amused as he put on this time. He thought about why that might be. Could it be that because he’d spent considerable time with someone on his own, he wasn’t nearly as jealous? He hoped so. He’d spent so much time being lonely, and he’d like to be done with it all, to live a normal life. Well, as normal as being a closeted star athlete would allow. But for the moment he enjoyed his lack of sullenness and Jace’s discomfort.

They spent the rest of their lunch laughing, having the occasional paparazzo request a quick shot, and generally ganging up on Jace. When they were finished, they made their way outside, where the valet had brought Izzy’s car around to the front. He handed the keys to Isabelle, bowing a little, and they all climbed into her red 2010 Cadillac CTS-V, a gift from Cadillac for her appearing in their commercial for the car. Alec liked it, and it had power, but it didn’t hold a candle to his baby back home. He was really starting to miss it, having been away from it for two weeks now.

“I really don’t know how you drive this huge tank in traffic. Unless you use it to run over taxis, it’s useless.” Jace climbed in the backseat, but leaned forward in between the front seats to turn up the radio. “What? Oh, no we are  _ not _ blasting this,” he said.

Isabelle swatted his hand away and turned it up louder. “Oh, come on Jace! Find your inner 80’s rock star!” she yelled over Rick Springfield’s classic guitar riffs. “And I love my car! Your little sardine can doesn’t even belong in the same league.”

“That’s because it would totally leave this hunk of grandma junk in the dust!” he yelled back. Isabelle ceased to acknowledge him, starting to sing along.

Alec had to laugh. They were speeding through lower Manhattan traffic in a huge car, windows rolled down, belting out Jesse’s Girl. Even Jace conceded and joined in, unable to resist the sheer adolescence of the whole thing. They were acting like teenagers who’d just gotten their license, out cruising for no reason other than to be seen. They were caught by a few cameras, and Alec was sure their mother would lecture them about their decorum in public (wouldn’t want to be lumped in with the Britney’s and the Paris’s of the world, with their lax morals and such), but for the moment they all enjoyed the chance to act like kids with nothing better to do than have fun.


	12. No Hands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A short one, but one of my favorites. If I remember correctly, what happens in this chapter was a suggestion from a comment I got way back in the day. :P

##  Cobrastyle by Robyn

“Oh, dear brother?” Isabelle’s sweet-talking voice came from his doorway.

“Yes?” Alec groaned from his place on the floor, leaning up against his bed and playing FIFA.

“Are you in the mood to see your luscious lover tonight?” she asked.

“Jesus! Will you watch what you say?” Alec said, throwing down the controller and hopping up to glance up and down the hallway.

“Relax, Jace is sleeping and no one else is home. So, how about it?”

“What did you have in mind?” he asked with apprehension.

“Hitting up his humble digs, of course. I’ve been dying to go back to Cherry Bomb. That place is off the chain,” she said.

“‘Off the chain’? Really, Izz?”

“Shut up,” she said, shoving him down on the bed and sitting down next to him. “So?” she prodded.

“I don’t really like that kind of thing, you know that. I’m not the going out type,” he said.

“But it’s a chance to see your sexy, sexy lover.  _ And _ to show off your new, Isabelle Lightwood-approved wardrobe to said sexy lover,” she said, wiggling her shoulders to emphasize her words.

“He is NOT my lover, Izz. Jesus, I told you I wasn’t going to hop into bed with him anytime soon. Give me a break, I’m not Jace. And plus, it’s not like I can cuddle up with him in a corner or anything.”

“Why not?” she asked.

“Do you have to ask? Can you imagine what would happen?” Alec shuddered at the thought of doing things that even remotely resembled their activities at Magnus’ house, right out in public.

“Well then, it’s an opportunity to  _ gaze _ at your sexy  _ potential _ lover from afar. He’s bound to be there with Barbie. And you two can make eyes at each other all night, and other such cuteness,” she said.

“What’s in it for you?” Alec said, turning to face her and getting suspicious.

“Why can’t I just want you to be horny and happy for once?” she asked with a faux innocent look, batting her lashes.

“Because Isabelle Lightwood doesn’t work that way.”

She sat for a minute, still looking innocent and probably hoping he would just relent, but he stood his ground. She sighed dramatically, rolling her eyes. “Fine. Jace is going out with that little short girl again and he asked me to come and make conversation with her.”

“Since when does  _ Jace Lightwood _ need support on a date?” Alec asked, shocked.

“Since little red riding hood keeps poking holes in his ego,” she laughed.

“So let me get this straight: he can’t hold an intelligent conversation with an artist, so he needs  _ you _ to tag along and talk girl talk with her while he sits and looks pretty, and you need  _ me _ to come along…why?”

“To help me retain my sanity. And to show off that wardrobe I worked so hard to put together,” she added. “Please?” she pleaded, batting her lashes one more time. He sighed and rolled his eyes, and she took this as a yes. She jumped up and kissed him on the cheek and hopped out of the room.

“How do I get myself into this shit?” Alec said to no one in particular.

Isabelle returned three hours later to begin his transformation. She had him try on a thousand different outfits, but finally settled on one he actually sort of liked.

He was in black skinny jeans that had a sort of waxy coating on them, making them slightly shiny. He also had on a red and black patterned button up dress shirt, and on top of that a black leather blazer, unbuttoned to show the shirt underneath. She handed him a studded belt with a tastefully large belt buckle made of crossed guns done in silver metal, and topped it off with a pair of Wayfarers on his head. She allowed him to pick his own shoes, which turned out to be his usual black boots. She tucked the jeans into them and loosened them at the tops.

She stood back and admired her handiwork with a smile. Alec had to admit he looked pretty awesome. Magnus the fashion guru would be proud. Just the thought of seeing him, even if he couldn’t touch him the way he longed to, put a smile on Alec’s face that he couldn’t wipe away.

After they’d roused Jace, and he’d thrown on his customary surfer boy uniform and mussed his hair little (and came out looking utterly runway ready), they all piled in Isabelle’s car. They were meeting “Clary” at the lounge. When they got there, Jace nearly had a meltdown. She had a guy next to her, so close they were nearly occupying the same space. He looked like a grungy Billie Joe Armstrong wannabe, and Jace was livid. Alec just chuckled under his breath.

“Hey, everyone,” Clary said, looking a little intimidated by the three stars in front of her.

“Hey babe,” said Jace, coming to put his arm around her. She didn’t brush it off, and Jace seemed surprised that she didn’t. The other guy just stood there scowling in Jace’s general direction while Jace plastered on his pretty boy smile. Alec rolled his eyes and sighed inwardly.

“Um, this is my best friend Simon,” she said to the rest of them. Simon waved, and looked at each of them in turn as a greeting. Alec thought Simon was alright, but then again Simon wasn’t a threat to  _ him _ . “Simon, this is—“

“I think I know who they are, Clary,” he said, looking sheepish. But then he surprised Alec by reaching out his hand towards him. “Alexander Lightwood, of the LA Galaxy? Dude, I’m a huge fan,” he said, shaking Alec’s hand.

“Thanks, man,” Alec said with a smile. Jace just scowled more, probably because he considered that fraternizing with the enemy. Alec mentally told him to shove it. He did also notice, however, that after his greeting with Alec, Simon’s eyes strayed to Isabelle and locked tight. There was absolutely no surprise in that. She tended to do that to unsuspecting guys.

They made their way inside, taking a seat at one of the VIP booths along the wall. Isabelle, Clary, and Jace ordered drinks while Simon and Alec declined. Simon was too busy staring at Isabelle, and Alec was too busy combing the entire room for a glimpse of spikey black hair and a hint of glitter.

“He’ll be here,” Isabelle said low into his ear.

“I’m not looking for him,” Alec retorted, still scanning the room.

“Uh huh. And Jace will score tonight,” she said.

“What?” Clary asked.

“Oh, nothing dear.” Isabelle picked up her drink and took a delicate sip, smiling around the rim of the glass and turning her head away so the other girl didn’t see.

“So, how was Milan?” Simon asked. Seems that everyone knew everything about the Lightwood family these days. This did not put Alec at ease with his own secrets.

“Oh you know,” Isabelle said, waving off the comment, as if Simon really did ‘know’.

The conversation went on in much the same way, with random awkward silences and Jace trying to engage Clary in a conversation about art, but only ending up sitting there in silence, nodding his head in random places as she talked over his head.

“Come on, Alec,” Isabelle prodded in his ear. She was already getting a little tipsy.

“Izzy, you know I don’t drink much,” he said.

“Oh, quit being an old man and have a drink! That’s what we’re out for!” she whined.

“Okay, okay! Fine!” he said, throwing his hands up. She looked appeased, and waved the waitress over.

“Okay, um…two shots of Crown, a Long Island, and an Adios Motherfucker,” she said.

“Sure thing. Be right back,” said the waitress, sashaying off to the bar.

“An Adios what?” Alec said.

“Don’t worry, brother dearest. You’ll like it. It tastes like 7-up. Harmless. And you like Crown, so I got you two shots.”

“TWO? Plus a drink? Izz, I don’t know.” Alec was getting a little anxious and scared. He hadn’t hit the liquor hard since his 21 st , and he didn’t know how it was going to affect him. But he figured he’d be a good sport for Izzy. She so rarely got to go out and drink, while having to maintain her weight for photos.

When the waitress came back with the shots and two tall glasses, one that looked like iced tea and the other a pale blue color, Isabelle handed her a stack of bills and took the drinks from her tray down to the table.

“Alright, old man. Show us what you got. And this time you don’t have stupid excuses about practice and all that bullshit. Go on,” Isabelle prodded.

“Oh, he won’t do it. He’s never been able to hold his liquor,” Jace said from across the table, peering up from finally establishing conversation with Clary. Of course, this lit Alec’s manly torch.

“Shut up, Jace,” he said, and downed the two shots back to back. Then, he picked up the blue drink and took a long swig. It actually tasted pretty good. It chased away the burn of the Crown, and it had a smoothness that made it taste just like soda. “This isn’t very strong, Izz. I thought you were gonna hit me hard?”

“Oh, give it a little while. Keep sipping. You’ll thank me in about 20 minutes,” she said with a smile. He sat back and took another sip. He didn’t see how this mild, bubbly drink was going to knock him to the ground anytime soon.

Like clockwork, twenty minutes later, he’d forgotten all about his problems with being in the closet, and he’d stopped scanning the room for Magnus. He just laid back on the couch and enjoyed the alcohol induced high. He knew he was completely intoxicated, but he somehow didn’t mind.

Isabelle kept throwing new drinks at him, mostly shots, and he took them like a champ. He could tell Izzy was having more fun now that he was joining in and not being a party pooper. He wondered why he was so against it from the beginning? As he sat up and took another shot of Cuervo, he decided it didn’t matter. He was living in the now.

Suddenly, the waitress appeared at their table again. Isabelle hadn’t ordered anything else, but perched atop her tray was a small shot glass with a chocolate-colored liquid in it, topped with whipped cream.

“What’s this?” Isabelle asked.

“A Blowjob,” the waitress explained.

“Are you serious?” Isabelle said.

“Quite. But it’s not for you,” she said. She turned to Alec. “I was told the Blowjob was for the sexy soccer jock with the pretty blue eyes.”

He gulped loudly, his senses returning somewhat, sobering him up a little. “What?” he squeaked.

“It’s for you. From the owner,” she said with an evil grin. His head whirled around to find the culprit. His eyes searched the room, falling on the far corner and eventually locking with the most intoxicating pair of green-yellow eyes. The owner of those sexy peepers raised and lowered one eyebrow, and winked. Alec’s pants suddenly got very tight across his lap. But he lost the semi again when he turned back to the drink, remembering the name, and the fact that the waitress had said it in front of everyone.

He didn’t notice that no one else had paid any attention except Isabelle, but he was still turning the brightest shade of red. But all of a sudden, Isabelle came to his rescue again.

“Well, I want one!” she whined.

The waitress nodded, heading off to the bar again. When she came back, the shot had been copied. She set them on the low table in front of Alec and Isabelle. When Alec moved to pick it up, the waitress stopped him.

“No, you don’t use your hands,” she said.

“Excuse me?” Alec squeaked again. How was he supposed to drink it with no hands? Was he supposed to pick it up with his teeth and drain it? But then he’d whipped cream all over his fa… _ Oh, God. _ He looked back over at Magnus in the corner. He was smiling devilishly, lopsided, with one eyebrow raised as if to say “Go on. What are you waiting for?” Alec’s pants were tight again. He couldn’t resist that smirk.

When he looked back at Isabelle, she was already moving in for the kill. She lowered her head down, opening her mouth wide enough to accommodate the entire rim of the glass, and consequently getting a little whipped cream on the corners of her mouth. She sucked in the white fluffy substance, then leaned her head back, glass between her teeth, and drained it. She lowered her head back down and deposited the glass on the table. The waitress looked pleased. Isabelle turned to Alec.

“What are you waiting for?” she asked. His breathing was increasing, his heart rate going out of whack. He looked back down at the fluffy shot on the table, and gulped again. Would it be so bad, though? He thought. It’s just a drink. No one else is paying attention. Well, except  _ Magnus _ .

Then, suddenly, with that thought, Alec was determined. Magnus could sit there looking sexy all day long, without even trying. But what had Alec done that had blown Magnus away? Bit his lip once or twice? He had to do something cocky and sexy, to get up to Magnus’ level. On some wavelength in his brain, he knew it was the liquor talking, making him act so rash, but he couldn’t help it. He wanted to see the look on Magnus’ face.

So, he leaned down, hands behind his back, and opened his mouth wide. He caught the glass with his teeth, and held it firmly. He leaned up, threw his head back, and let the yummy Irish cream and whipped topping flow down his throat. It was delicious. He wondered if it was like the real thing, and he couldn’t wait to test the theory.

When he had drained the shot, he leaned over and set it back on the table with his teeth. When he leaned back up, he turned his head to look across the room. He was rewarded with a very lustful look from the spikey haired man he’d grown so attached to. They locked eyes for a moment, and Magnus’ tongue slid across his lower lip, then he jerked his chin forward. Alec took this as an alert that he had whipped cream on his mouth, just like he’d seen on Isabelle. It was inevitable. But he shocked himself and Magnus when he didn’t blush at all (other than what was there because of the alcohol) and he seductively let his tongue slip out and run across his lower lip, catching the stray white substance left there. He was rewarded by Magnus’ eyes rolling back a little before slipping shut. He could almost hear the moan escape his lips. Alec smiled. They were even now.

Later, he’d look back on the night and be completely horrified by what he’d done. He’d basically written it across the sky that he was hot for the sexy lounge owner. But to his relief, it seemed that no one had caught it on camera, and only Izzy and the waitress had known. And certainly Magnus knew the waitress, because he owned the place, and he’d told her not to tell anyone about  _ them _ , right?


	13. Wished for an Endless Night

##  Glitter in the Air by P!nk

“You weren’t kidding,” Alec mused.

“I told you, it’s my guilty pleasure. I soak it up as much as I can,” Magnus returned.

They were lying on the big pink couch, Alec’s head resting in the crook of Magnus’ neck, sounds of Dawson and Pacey fighting over Joey in the background. They’d been lying here for nearly three hours, just letting the DVDs play. Sort of listening, but not really watching. They kissed occasionally, but it never got very heavy. They were just enjoying each other’s company.

“Well, I think I’ve soaked up my fair share of Capeside drama for one day,” Alec said.

“I guess that’s true,” Magnus said, touching his little remote and turning off the TV.

“Do you control  _ everything _ from that little thing?” Alec asked.

“Sure. Everything in the house. I’m lazy by nature. I wish I could just snap my fingers and do things like turn on the lights or the TV. But alas, the man upstairs didn’t see fit to give me magical powers, so I make do with this little thing,” he said, holding up the little touch screen remote.

Alec chuckled. “Yea, I’d say that’s pretty lazy.”

“Well, would you rather be up and about doing all this stuff, or would you rather lie here and be lazy with me?”

“Oh, I’ll take lazy any day,” Alec said. He leaned his face up to Magnus’ and their lips brushed together lightly. Alec could feel the smile against his lips, and leaned up more to deepen the kiss. Before long, their lips were moving fluidly together, tongues occasionally slipping in and out, and soft moans causing vibrations between them.

Alec tended to get lost in kissing Magnus. Those full lips brushing against his own seemed to put him in a trance, and he never wanted it to end. He’d never known that being this intimate with a man could be this satisfying. In his mind, the situation was always colored with trepidation. But ever since he’d met Magnus, he’d been opened up to the world of intimacy,  _ legitimate _ intimacy. This didn’t even compare to his little bout with Amy. It was in an entirely different league of happiness. He could be himself with Magnus, like he couldn’t with anyone else in the world.

“What are you thinking?” Magnus asked softly when they paused for air.

“Who says I’m thinking anything?” Alec said. “I could just be in a complete haze right now.”

“But you’re not,” Magnus said. He reached up and brushed a dark lock from Alec’s forehead, so gently Alec sighed and let his eyes slip shut for a moment before coming back to the present.

“I was just thinking about how happy I am,” Alec said.

“In general? With life? Seems an odd time to think about that…”

“No. I mean how happy I am with you,” he clarified.

“Are you  _ with _ me?” Magnus asked. “I mean, in that sense?”

“I think I’ve come to see it that way. Why? Do you not?” Alec asked, suddenly afraid of the answer.

“No, I do. But I was just wondering what you saw us as, considering no one else knows you to see someone like me as anything,” he said.

“What do you mean?” Alec asked, but he already knew.

“I get the impression that the rest of your family is oblivious to your fight with your closet door,” Magnus said softly, still running his fingers through Alec’s hair.

“Isabelle knows. Well, she figured it out. And she knows about me and you, also.”

“But no one else?”

“No,” Alec said, feeling suddenly ashamed.

“Do you ever plan on telling them? Your family, I mean,” Magnus said.

“I don’t know. Maybe, I guess. I know it’s unfair to them, and it sucks for me, but I’m just afraid. My parents are old fashioned, and they’re not very accepting of change in their lifestyle.”

“But it’s not change. It’s the way you’ve always been. It would just be like weight off your shoulders, and they shouldn’t be angry at that, even though they might think they are,” Magnus said.

“They will be. I can promise you that.”

“But then they’ll get over it. You’re their son, they’ll love you regardless,” Magnus said. Alec knew he was right, but the prospect of actually coming out and saying that he was gay in front of his mother and father and Jace, well that was a nightmare that had plagued him for a decade.

“Did you tell your parents?” Alec asked.

“No, not ever outright. But I made no pretense of hiding it. I never brought boyfriends home, but that wasn’t because they were  _ boy _ friends. It was because they wouldn’t  _ be _ boyfriends after they’d met my fucked up family.” At this, Magnus looked immensely sad. Alec was reminded of Magnus’ horrible story about his mother.

“Do you miss her?” Alec asked.

Magnus paused for a moment, and Alec could have sworn he suppressed a soft sob. “Everyday,” he whispered. “But she’s so far away now. I used to be able to call her up in my mind and see her face. But as time’s gone on, she’s faded away. I can’t get her clear in my head anymore, and that kills me. I don’t want her to think I’ve forgotten her.”

“Why do you think that is?” Alec asked. “Do you think about her often?”

“All the time. When I do things around the house I hear her telling me to tidy up, because you never know when company will come. When I’m out shopping with Camille I hear her telling me that what I just picked up is way too expensive to be an article of clothing,” he chuckled softly, sadly. “And every time I look in that corner, I hear her telling me to sit down and let it out, but I just can’t,” he finished, taking a deep breath and letting it out.

Alec looked over to the corner he knew Magnus was talking about, the far corner of the living room that held a sleek white grand piano. He’d always wondered whether Magnus actually played, or if it was just nice décor because it matched the room.

“She left it to me in her will. It was her grandfather’s, and it had been stored away in some warehouse with a thousand other priceless possessions. She knew I’d love it as soon as I saw it, because it’s beautiful. And quite an upgrade from what I’m used to,” he said, reminiscing.

“When I was younger, about 10 or 11, my mother used to sneak me into the little chapel in the small town about 15 miles from London. It had a beaten up Steinway that must have been at least 70 years old. But it was tuned, and it played everything but the last C at the top. I would sit there for hours on end at one and two o’clock in the morning, just playing whatever came to mind. My mother would sit in the front pew and listen.” He paused, smiling slightly.

“One night, the father scared us out of our wits. He appeared around the corner and I got so scared we were going to get arrested. I immediately jumped out of the seat, and ran to my mother’s arms. But he looked at me with a pleading expression, and told me to please continue. So, I went back to the bench, and he joined my mother. I forgot they were there after another 10 minutes or so. I think I played and sang Ave Maria five or six times that night in different variations, just because I knew it was my mother’s favorite.”

His voice trailed off as he thought back on the memory, and Alec was mesmerized. In the silence, he could practically hear the strained keys of the piano letting out a lilting Ave Maria, caressed by a young boy’s able fingers. He was suddenly very jealous that that father had gotten to hear Magnus sing and play, and he never had.

“Did you ever think,” he began softly, “that your mother is slipping away because you refuse to do the one thing that would keep her spirit alive?”

“I just can’t, Alec. I told you, I’ve never made it past a couple of notes before I get so damned angry that she’s not here to hear it, and I can’t do it anymore. Besides, my voice probably doesn’t sound the way it used to, being out of use for so long. When I was younger, she would put me in plays and revues all the time, just for an excuse to get me to perform. And I loved it, I loved every minute of being on stage. But I just can’t anymore.”

Magnus grew silent, and Alec told himself not to push it anymore, because he sounded close to tears. He knew it tore Magnus up inside not to do the thing he loved, the thing that most reminded him of his mother; but he also knew that it might take some time before he was comfortable trying.

They lay there in silence, Magnus softly running his nails over Alec’s scalp and Alec listening to his steady heartbeat. They drifted off, letting light from the big windows warm their skin.

Alec woke slowly, and immediately noticed Magnus’ absence. The windows had gone dark and all the light in the room came from the ambient lights of the city outside. The shock of waking up in an unfamiliar place without the familiar person there was disorienting. He slowly reached up and rubbed his eyes. His head now rested on a plush turquoise pillow. He already missed having Magnus’ heartbeat next to his ear. He could swear he heard subtle, disjointed sounds ringing against the walls, caressing his ears.

He sat up and stretched quietly, and rolled his neck a little. He glanced around the room for the source of the noise. Eventually, his eyes fell on the corner where the piano stood. Magnus was seated on the large white leather bench, eyes closed. He was running his hands over the keys, playing an absent note here and there. Alec was so afraid to disturb him, he didn’t dare move a muscle. He just watched.

He could tell from Magnus’ face that he was warring with himself, fighting the urge to run but also trying to force himself to stay in the seat. His hands ran over the keys like they were snakes ready to strike, like he was afraid of them. But slowly, Alec noticed he got more comfortable. He began to play chords, stringing them together in short melodies. Alec didn’t recognize them, but they were beautiful.

When he finally got the courage to stand up, he did so as quietly as he could so as not to startle him. He walked over to stand next to the piano, and placed his hand over the top, feeling the very subtle vibration of each note as Magnus’ hands produced it.

Without opening his eyes, Magnus said, “You know, I’ve never even sat here. This has been in my house for three years and I’ve never once lifted the cover off the keys.”

“Please don’t stop,” Alec pleaded softly. He thought he might know what that father felt like. He was so desperate to hear the rest of what was playing behind Magnus’ eyes. He went over behind Magnus, and put first one foot and then the other over the bench, sitting behind him and cocooning Magnus in the crook of his thighs. Alec wrapped his arms around his waist and gave him a gentle squeeze. He rested his chin on Magnus’ shoulder. “It’s just me this time, okay?”

Magnus opened his eyes, and nuzzled his cheek against Alec’s. Then he took a deep breath, letting it out in a huff. Alec leaned back a little to let him have some space, and held his breath. Then, Magnus started to play.

He started a song with a succession of notes moving down the scale, and opened into a resonant chord. He repeated the first two or three bars a couple of times, seeming to gather his strength. His playing was soft, barely striking the keys. Already, it was the most beautiful thing Alec had ever heard. Little did he know, the quiet music coming from the instrument was about to be topped.

Magnus began to sing. It was very soft at first; Alec probably only heard it because he was so close. It probably wouldn’t have carried throughout the room. Alec was speechless. The voice that filled his ears was sweet and vulnerable, yet full of emotion. As the first verse gave way to the chorus, Magnus’ notes came a little stronger. The words were also working their magic on Alec’s heart. It was so unbelievably beautiful, he could swear he was dreaming. As Magnus entered the second verse, Alec kept his hands around his waist and let his cheek rest between Magnus’ shoulder blades, closing his eyes and just letting the gorgeous sound envelop him.

As the second verse wore on, he could hear the catch in Magnus’ breathing between phrases, and the extra vibrato that seeped in, followed by soft sniffles between words. Soon he felt the small, cool drops hitting his hands, but he didn’t move. He let Magnus feel what he felt, and just enjoyed the sweet music while it lasted.

If he hadn’t been blown away while the soft verses were uttered, he was when Magnus got to the bridge. The first few words were accompanied by slightly staccato chords. But when he got to the last word in the bridge, it was like night and day from the beginning of the song, where he’d kept it so soft Alec barely heard. With the word “sugar”, he opened up and hit the most wonderful note, letting it resonate through the entire room, bouncing off the walls and filling Alec’s ears. Alec was breathless and speechless all over again. He wasn’t sure exactly, but he figured it was the pure and raw yearning in Magnus’ voice on that note that finally brought him to tears.

By the end of the word, Magnus brought it back down again. He paused for so long, Alec thought with sadness that the song was over already. But he felt Magnus take another shaky breath, and begin the last verse. His voice was strained with tears, but it didn’t make it any less beautiful. If anything, it made it more so. It was so full of raw emotion that Alec lost himself for a moment. By the end of the song, Magnus’ voice was barely audible again, tears still falling from his cheeks down onto Alec’s hands, with a few of them landing on the keys.

When the room fell silent again, Alec could still hear the ringing of the beautiful notes reflecting off the white lacquer walls. He lifted his face and saw that he’d stained the back of Magnus’ shirt with tears. Magnus took another deep breath, seeming to try and calm himself.

He twisted around on the bench, his eyes downcast for a moment before looking up at Alec through his lashes. Alec could tell he wanted to know that everything was okay. He looked so vulnerable, the most unguarded Alec had ever seen him. He usually kept up this wall of sarcasm that even Alec hadn’t really been able to break down. But this look, this expression of utter openness, brought Alec to his knees.

He reached up, placing a finger beneath Magnus’ chin, drawing it up. He brought their lips together firmly, tasting the salt of their tears as his tongue brushed the seam between Magnus’ lips. They moved together, Magnus reaching up and twining fingers into Alec’s hair, Alec moving his hand to the back of Magnus’ neck and pulling him closer.

##  Breathe Me by Sia

He swung his legs off the bench and Magnus swung his over to the back, never breaking the kiss. Alec leaned down and used his toned arms to reach underneath and pick Magnus up, bringing his legs around his waist. Magnus held on to his neck tightly, cool drops still traveling down his cheeks.

Alec made his way to the only doorway out of the living room, assuming it was right. When Magnus didn’t correct him, he figured he was. He carried Magnus into his bedroom, which was beautiful and very Magnus. It was black and white, with little pops of red here and there, and very modern. It also had a wall made entirely of windows. He carried him over to the bed, laying him down gently, and crawling on top of him. Magnus broke the kiss to reach up and pull at the hem of Alec’s shirt, slipping it over his head. He leaned up and Alec did the same. Magnus reached down and began to tear at Alec’s belt and jeans, pushing them impatiently to his knees. Alec kicked them off as he worked on Magnus’ pants in the same manner. They fumbled around, still kissing, sometimes gently and sometimes more feverishly.

When they were both naked, they worked their way under the covers, all tangled in each other. Alec placed his hand behind Magnus’ head on the pillow and leaned down to kiss him again. He was situated between Magnus’ legs, which were bent on either side of him. He was basically on all fours above Magnus, one hand on the pillow and the other still under Magnus’ soft hair, and he paused. 

“Alexander, are you sure you want to do this?” Magnus asked. Alec knew he was only asking because it was all new to him. And yes, he was afraid, but he couldn’t think of a better person to take the next step with. He wasn’t sure if he was actually in love with Magnus, but he felt more strongly about him than he had any other person in his 23 years.

“Alec,” he said. “Call me Alec.”

“Alec,” Magnus said, bringing him back down to his lips again.

“And yes, I’m sure. There’s no one else that I’d rather...” he trailed off.

Magnus smiled. “Just...treat me gently. It’s been a long time,” he teased.

Magnus reached over to the bedside table and, after a bit of awkward maneuvering, pulled out a condom and a small bottle of lube. 

Alec took the bottle, somewhat at a loss as to how to proceed. He’d watched porn of course, but none of those videos ever contained the part  _ before _ the main bit. He looked to Magnus with a pleading expression, and the other man relented. 

Magnus popped the top on the bottle and gestured to Alec’s hand. “Not too much, but enough. Start with just one finger, and I’ll tell you when you can add more, okay?”

Alec took a deep breath and let it out in a whoosh. He was surprised his hands weren’t shaking. 

“Hey,” Magnus prodded, pulling Alec’s face back up to look at him. “I trust you, do you trust me?” he said quietly. Alec nodded, feeling some of the tension dissipate, and he did as Magnus had instructed. 

He sat up slightly, spreading the liquid over his fingers and positioning himself to comfortably reach where he needed to. The pad of his finger circled around Magnus’ skin, causing the other man to let out a sigh of anticipation. 

As instructed, Alec started out slow, pushing in bit by bit until he heard Magnus gasp, then pulling out just as slowly until he was barely grazing the rim of Magnus’ hole. He repeated this over and over, listening to Magnus’ breathing hitch and break, heeding his lover’s directions of ‘a little further, curl your finger like this, yes,  _ yes _ ’ and adding another finger when he was practically begging for it. 

He’d never seen Magnus this undone; Confident and put-together Magnus was falling apart in front of him in the best way, just from Alec’s touch. It was intoxicating and Alec couldn’t believe he’d waited so long to search this out for himself. 

“Okay, okay,” Magnus panted between biting his lip and curling his hips up toward Alec. “I’m--you can--” Alec curled his fingers one more time with a small, confident smile, and Magnus’ sentence was lost for a moment. “I’m ready, Alec. Let me feel you, please?”

Alec tried not to let the mild panic slip back in as he withdrew his hand and wiped it with some tissue from the bedside table. Magnus was already reaching for the condom, which had been lost in the sheets next to them. 

After unwrapping the condom, Magnus slipped it down over Alec's already straining erection, and Alec let out a low moan at the sensation. He felt so in touch with Magnus and his emotions at the moment, like they were one person. Slowly, Magnus took a bit of lube and smoothed it over Alec's covered cock. When he was coated and glistening, he positioned himself at Magnus’ entrance.

He stared into those green-yellow eyes for a moment, gathering his thoughts. They still looked vulnerable and fragile, a holdover from earlier in the evening when he’d laid his heart bare for the first time in who knew how long, but also determined and strong. Alec kept his eyes on those soft, delicate features as he slowly began to push inside. At first, Magnus’ eyes closed and his eyebrows pinched together, and he let out a small whimper. He sucked his bottom lip under his top teeth and the bridge of his fine boned nose wrinkled.

Alec went almost glacially slowly, and eventually Magnus’ face started to smooth out. The feeling, to Alec, was exquisite. It was tight and warm, and it sent chills up his spine. Part of it was the physical feeling of pleasure, but the other half was the connection he felt with Magnus. He couldn’t think of sharing this moment with anyone else. It was like he was actually giving himself up for the first time all over again.

Finally, Alec’s thighs hit the back of Magnus’. He stayed that way for a minute, relishing the feeling and giving Magnus time to adjust. After a few moments, Magnus opened his eyes and stared up at Alec with such a loving expression that he was taken aback and almost let the tears fall again. He’d never felt so close to one person in his entire life. Magnus leaned up and closed the few inches between them.

“Alec,” Magnus whispered in his ear, and Alec got chills again. His heart felt like it would burst at the sound of his name, the name only those closest to him used, coming from Magnus’ sweet lips. “Make love to me, Alec.”

“Okay, Magnus.” He placed a kiss just below the join of the man’s ear. 

He started to withdraw, and Magnus let out the smallest sigh of loss, but he looked okay so Alec continued. He couldn’t hold out anymore, so he turned his head and placed his lips against the other man’s again, needing to feel him everywhere. As he pushed back in, he groaned deeply against Magnus’ lips, causing a similar sound to erupt from him. It felt so good, here and now, with this man. Alec wanted to melt into him. He pressed his body down on Magnus, and Magnus’ arms tightened around his waist.

He began to thrust faster, gauging Magnus’ comfort level by the sounds he emitted. It seemed to be okay, so he picked up the pace a little, causing Magnus to moan louder, more drawn out. Alec continued to devour his lips while his lower half pleasured Magnus as deep as he could. He rotated his hips a little and Magnus let out a cry of ecstasy that Alec echoed. He leaned back down and pressed himself into Magnus’ body again.

“Oh, Alec please don’t stop. Do it again,” he pleaded. Alec did the same movement and was met with another loud cry. He did it over and over, a little faster and a little harder each time, the moans and cries of his name getting louder with each one. He noticed he was emitting some sounds himself, and thought he should be embarrassed, but he just couldn’t bring himself to be. He was enjoying this more than anything in his life.

“Magnus…ah God, Magnus…”

“Alec, fuck…you feel so…good...” Magnus groaned as he came up and caught Alec’s earlobe between his teeth. He nibbled softly and Alec thought he might see stars. No one had ever done that, and it was like hitting a nerve inside him that screamed in pleasure. He cried out Magnus’ name again, continuing to slide in and out of the luscious tightness below.

“Harder, Alec. Go ahead, I won’t break,” Magnus pleaded. Alec took the hint. He pushed in further than before, hitting Magnus’ prostate again with more force. He screamed again, causing goosebumps to appear on Alec’s skin. He loved that sound, and wanted to make it come again. He continued, and he heard it again and again, again and again.

He was getting close, feeling the muscles coil in his abdomen. He was leaning down and resting his forehead on Magnus’ shoulder, their sweat mixing like their moans. He was whimpering and sighing, working towards his orgasm with full force. He could tell Magnus was getting close, too, by the sounds he was making. His own erection was being rubbed between their stomachs with alarming friction. He knew they both would not last much longer.

“Alec, I’m…almost…” Magnus gasped.

“Me too, Magnus. Wait for me,” he said into his ear, reaching down to take Magnus in his hand, stroking hard and fast. 

With a few more thrusts, Alec gave it his all. One last time, he slammed in and Magnus screamed, and Alec felt hot liquid shoot onto his chest just as he let himself go. His eyes rolled back in his head and he was overtaken by bliss for a few moments. He collapsed down on top of Magnus, who wrapped his arms around his back and held him tight, like he would never let go.

They stayed that way for a long while, just soaking each other in. Alec didn’t think he’d have the strength to move again, ever, but he was perfectly content with remaining in his current position for the rest of time. He was on cloud nine, and never wanted it to end.

But alas, sore knees and Magnus’ abused backside called for a change in position. He pushed himself up on his hands and began to slowly withdraw while Magnus winced, but smiled to show he wasn’t in too bad of shape. When he was fully out, Alec leaned down to place a sweet kiss on his nose, then rubbed his own against it in an Eskimo kiss. Magnus chuckled softly, and Alec smiled wider.

Alec lay down next to Magnus, who rolled over to place his head on Alec’s chest. Alec reached up and put his fingers through the black silk of his hair. With their hands clasped over Alec’s heart, they fell into exhausted, blissful sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah...smut written in 2010...
> 
> I'll be honest, it's why I took so long to post this. I have rewritten all of this fic to be a little less purple, but I didn't like...REWRITE it, you know? I kept it as original as I could. So here you are, one of the first real plot relevant smut scenes I ever wrote. 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed :) Please drop me a comment if you'd like!

**Author's Note:**

> Story blog: @ [theglamourverse](https://theglamourverse.tumblr.com/)  
> Personal blog: @ [maybe-theres-hope](https://maybe-theres-hope.tumblr.com)


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